Forget Me
by Emara88
Summary: The war ended over two years ago, but Hermione still feels the echoes of strange memories from that time, as though something is missing or has been taken from her. When she sees Draco Malfoy at a Ministry ball and collapses, falling into a coma, the truth about their past together is revealed.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: Hello everyone! I'm back from my rather short break and am so keen to write another story. I had some tough decisions to make about what to write, but I think I settled on something I'm going to enjoy.**

 **For those of you who have just stumbled on here, I recently finished another story called** ** _Unexpected_** **if you're eager to take a look. Since this is the very beginning of a new story, please review and let me know what you're interested in reading from me this time! And of course, all our respect and adoration belongs to the illustrious JKR, who I am borrowing from just for a little while!**

 **….**

 **Forget Me**

 ** _October 27_** ** _th_** ** _, 2001_**

Hermione Granger was a force to be reckoned with when she was mad. Wizards and witches of all ages tried their best to stay out of her way when they saw that familiar glint in her brown eyes, and the way her hair prickled up wildly with angry static. And she was on the warpath today. She was working furiously, her fingers flying down the page as she read through the instructions, muttering under her breath as she chopped ingredients. The smell of putrid rat spleens hung in the air, but they were just at the perfect point in decomposition to be effective. She was slicing them furiously, only too aware that she had to accomplish twice as much today since her lab partner had decided to drop out of the course in the middle of a huge assignment.

"Bloody wanker," she snarled quietly to herself as she scooped the remaining spleens off the board and into her cauldron. A few of her peers darted nervous glances towards her as she barrelled into the next task, trying not to get in her way. Of all the selfish pricks in the world, she had to end up paired with the worst; Yuri Stevanovic. He was a slightly portly, red-faced moron who she had despised from the moment he waddled into the room on the first day of class. When he had realised how much effort he'd have to put into this unit on burn potions, he had promptly dropped the course part way through their first task without so much as an apology. And now Hermione was expected to complete everything by herself, without even an extension granted. The doddering old potions master in charge had just looked at her with his usual sweaty toothed grin of condescension and told her that she was more than capable of doing it by herself – she was the brains of the famous Golden Trio after all. He probably just wanted to avoid any extra paper work; the man was known for being notoriously lazy around the campus.

Her bad mood only darkened further when she remembered that this evening she was being forced to attend the Ministry's Halloween Ball. She tried her best to decline most invitations that came her way, but there was a lot of pressure from the ministry to have her and the rest of the golden trio attend to keep up morale and make them look good. Hermione was dreading the whole tedious evening. It would be an endless parade of snooty bureaucrats congratulating themselves on their triumphs, while staring at her as if she were some kind of attraction in a zoo. She despised the limelight, both good and bad. And the press could never seem to decide which one to portray her as. One week she was the darling girl of the golden trio who had fought tirelessly to bring down the Dark Lord Voldemort two years ago. And the next week she was the harlot and bitch who had broken poor Ron Weasley's heart. Never mind that they had barely even dated and they were still close friends to this day. Apparently she was either a heroine or a tramp, depending on whether it was a slow news day.

Hermione sighed, taking a deep, calming breath and turning her attention to the next item on the instructions. She began to grind the semi-powdered bicorn bone into a fine dust, probably with more force than necessary. She noticed her potions master studiously ignoring her struggles, and she muttered some unpleasant insults under her breath.

Not all her professors were like him of course, and he could hardly live up to her high expectations after being taught potions by Severus Snape. The Hogwarts potions master, despite being an absolute bastard, had been ruthlessly thorough in his teaching, and a highly intelligent wizard. She wasn't sure there would ever be another master like him. But she did actually love most of her other tutors; the kindly charms master who specialised in curse wounds, the witch from the birthing ward, and even the strict but respected healer who ran all the courses on mental manipulations. It helped that she was a bit of a teacher's pet. When things went her way, Hermione normally adored her schoolwork. She was still a total bookworm, as the boys said; not even a full-blown wizarding war had been able to change that. Only now she was training to be a Healer, and it felt worthwhile and made her excited as she looked forwards to getting some actual hands on experience next year during their apprenticeships.

When things had wrapped up at the end of what should have been their Seventh Year, the golden trio had been instantly offered cushy jobs at the ministry of magic. It was predictable really; the ministry wanted to improve their image, which was in tatters at the time, and Harry and Ron were keen to start auror training. But while it suited the boys, Hermione hadn't exactly been keen to throw herself into the corrupt bureaucracy of that place, not when the very building itself still haunted her. Not after Umbridge and the muggleborn trials. And she wasn't ready to let go of her education yet either. She had insisted on being allowed to sit her NEWTS even though she had not completed her final year. After a lot of persuasive and angry letter writing back and forth, the ministry had agreed, and after a month of study with barely a wink of sleep, she had walked away with Outstanding grades in all her chosen subjects. It had become the stuff of NEWT legends. She knew Minerva McGonagall had since awarded her an honorary place in the Hogwarts alumni archives. Harry and Ron had teased her mercilessly.

Personally, Hermione felt quite proud of herself. It had taken a lot of emotional and mental courage to get her where she needed to be to sit those exams. Not only had she missed a whole year of schooling that should have prepared her for them, but there was also her _condition_ to deal with.

"Twenty minutes to go before final submission," the professor called out. His gaze flickered over towards her and she glowered at him, throwing all politeness out the window. The old man actually blushed and spun away to busy himself with his papers to avoid her stare. Hermione turned her attention back to the potion, slowly counting out the number of clockwise stirs she did before adding a counter clockwise stir.

No one had been able to give her a definitive reason or diagnosis for her injury in all these years since it had happened. A number of healers had examined her, and the results had been entirely inconclusive. It plagued her constantly. Not in the physical sense so much; she was prone to dizzy spells and occasional confusion, but the weight of the problem lay in the emotional scarring. Sometime towards either the end of sixth year, or while they were searching for horcruxes, she must have been injured. It may have been a curse, or perhaps she had knocked her head when she fell down after one of their many escapades during that time. It was brutally done, whatever it was, and no one had been able to heal whatever it was since. Luckily the injury didn't seem to affect her all the time. Occasionally there was just a slight fuzziness she sometimes experienced. And it happened at the most random times. She could start to zone out in the middle of a conversation with Molly, or at the supermarket, or even during class. In those brief moments, it was like there was a piece of her missing. A slither of her self, gone away never to return. An icy numbness of loss and pain. She felt the sudden emptiness of something vacant inside her and once or twice she had even experienced a near panic attack when she returned from her split second coma.

It was something she had become resigned to in the last couple of years. Hermione had accepted that she might never heal from whatever it was, but she hoped that it would at least fade with time. It could be bloody inconvenient at times, and was totally unpredictable.

Once she had finished the final clockwise stir, Hermione watched proudly as the concoction turned a darkish blue colour. It had perfect consistency and hue. She looked around at the other pairs madly bottling their final products, some of them even starting to clean up their areas. And she had done it by herself. She poured enough of the thick liquid into a jar and placed it firmly onto the completed rack. She couldn't wait to get home and put her feet up for a couple of hours before she had to get ready. It had been an exhausting day, and Harry was sure to spoil her with a hot chocolate before they left. The two friends were renting an apartment in London together and he always had a way of sensing when she needed a good spoiling after a hard day, and vice versa.

She couldn't get out of the classroom fast enough. She decided to be rude for once and didn't bother to say goodbye or thank you to the professor. She just raced out with her books clutched under her arm and her bag sitting heavy on her back. As she made her way to the apparition point, Hermione reflected on the dress she had chosen to wear. Not wanting to bother with hours of hair taming and make-up this time, she had chosen an elegant black dress in the hopes that she could just stick her curls back into a bun somehow and still look fairly mature. Not like some raggedy doll as she usually did. Hermione groaned softly as she thought about the long, painfully dull evening stretching ahead of her. She forced herself to take a deep breath. She had to just grit her teeth and get through this spectacle. And she needed to stay calm so that she didn't make herself too vulnerable. She wouldn't want to have something happen to her with every representative of the Daily Prophet just waiting to snatch up a juicy story. As long as nothing upset her or made her feel too stressed, Hermione hoped that she would be able to get through the evening without incident…

….

The ballroom was extravagantly decorated as always. There were enormous pumpkins on pedestals, golden broomsticks whizzing around the ceiling and the buffet table had exotic themed food piled a mile high. Ron was delirious with joy. The boy had not stopped stuffing his face with food since he had arrived. Hermione and Harry shared an indulgent smile as he returned to their table with a plate laden with pastries. But their smiles turned a bit queasy when he started to shovel them into his mouth like oxygen.

"Uh…maybe we should…dance?" Harry stammered, holding his hand out to her. She accepted it gratefully and the two of them practically ran out onto the dance floor, sniggering to each other.

"Thank Merlin for Ron. I can barely fit into this dress as it is, but somehow he always manages to rid me of my appetite."

Harry snorted and pulled her into his arms. The two of them did a sort of awkward sway to and fro on the dance floor, laughing as they did. Everyone was staring at them of course. She could practically feel members of the Daily Prophet itching to come up with their next story. She smiled to herself as she thought of the way Ginny would laugh if she read such ridiculous lies in the newspaper. Harry was so fortunate to have found someone who understood him perfectly. She kept a level head and never fussed over silly rumours or all the fan girls who swamped him in public.

"He's watching you again," Harry murmured into her ear as he looked at something, or someone, she should say over her shoulder.

Hermione sighed and nestled closer into his protective arms. She knew exactly whom he was referring to. Draco Malfoy had this terrible habit of just showing up at these ministry events. She supposed since he was a rich, pureblood snob like the rest of them he was entitled to be here, but she didn't know why he had to make her so uncomfortable. He never approached them, but Harry had been the first one to notice that he seemed to focus a lot of his attention on _her_ when they attended these parties and balls. She had also spotted him on the far side of the hall now and then, his eyes never leaving her. It always made her shiver.

"He's probably thinking up new ways to insult me," she snorted in response. But Harry shook his head against her shoulder.

"Hmm somehow I don't think so. See for yourself."

Hermione groaned in annoyance, but her friend was determined. He spun them around with a big spinning swirl of their arms, making her a bit giddy with laughter, and when they returned she found he had strategically rotated them so that she was looking right at the same corner he had noticed. It was full of all the wealthiest purebloods of course, as Mafoy was sure to only keep the "best" sort of company.

When Hermione let her eyes pass over the group, she frowned. Most of the wizards were typically old and definitely on the rotund side; they were well-fed little purebloods, adorned in gold trimmed robes and the finest silks and jewels that made her feel strangely out of place in her simple black muggle gown. But what caught her eye and made her pause was the sight of the blond boy on the far side of their group. He was much younger than the rest, tall and slim with pointed, aristocratic features. But the light, soft hair was utterly unique and easily identifiable. Hermione hadn't seen him in a while, not since the last time she had accompanied Ron to another one of these silly functions. He had been there the whole night, she remembered with a grimace, watching her with his steely grey eyes. She allowed herself a split second now before he noticed the direction of her gaze, to catch a glimpse of him watching her, or so Harry claimed. And he was. His jaw was locked tightly, a muscle twitching as his eyes swept over them dancing together. His eyes were fixed, his concentration so intense as he stared at them that she thought he might be trying to set them on fire just with a look.

Hermione continued to let Harry move her to the gentle rhythm of the music as she observed Malfoy carefully, so she didn't miss his reaction when he realised she was returning his stare. She saw him tense and then his eyes widened slightly. His whole body looked taut, like he was ready to bolt from the room at a sprint. He had aged incredibly well. The harsh features of his youth had matured into cool, handsome looks. His skin was still as pale as ever, but his hair was softer. It draped down a bit at the front, across his forehead. But he had lines that revealed the stresses of his youth. His mouth was creased from frowning, and he had a harsh scar on one cheek that ran down to his jaw. He had managed to escape any legal ramifications from his days as a Death Eater, since he had been so young and forced into it against his will, but Hermione imagined that he would never be able to escape the memories. Just like the rest of them, he had been too young for war.

Draco Malfoy's eyes lifted to meet her gaze with that same intensity that had sucked the breath from her lungs every time she saw him. She felt her skin crawl unpleasantly, and without warning her mind became a bit fuzzy with that familiar fog she had become so used to.

She watched as he swallowed and licked his lips, but she couldn't quite pinpoint the emotion on his face. It looked a bit like fear. But why would he be afraid of _her_? Her eyes fluttered a little bit, and she could feel her body heating to the point where beads of sweat started forming on her forehead, but she managed to hold his gaze steadily.

Why did she react this way around him?

In the short, busy years since the war had ended, she had encountered him only a handful of times, but each time she had experienced this familiar discomfort, and had always suffered one of her incidents afterwards, another flash of confusion that sent her mind reeling. Maybe it was just because he had been a Death Eater. Perhaps her 'condition' was reacting to the presence of the Dark Mark on his arm, or he triggered memories of when she was being tortured by dark magic at the Manor. And it didn't help that he always stared at her this way, with this haunted look in his eyes as if she had personally tormented him. But no, it was the other way around, wasn't it? He had bullied _her_ at school, hadn't he?

It was possible that he himself was reliving the memory of Malfoy Manor when his aunt had tortured her. She knew that he had been troubled by it; he had stood and watched her writhing on the floor of his drawing room with horrified eyes. She remembered blinking up at him dazedly and seeing him biting his lip so hard that there had been blood dripping from his mouth, while his mother held onto him tightly.

Hermione shook her head minutely and tried to hold herself steady. It would be so embarrassing to have another one of her moments now. She grit her teeth and willed herself to concentrate. She just wished that he would look away, or blink or something. She squirmed a bit under his direct, heated gaze, and tried to tune back into her conversation with Harry.

"What do you think he wants?" she muttered to him, and he shrugged a bit as he spun her once more.

"No idea. But he's glaring at me like he wants to rip my arms off. He's fuming about something."

"Well you've always been rivals,"

"True," Harry agreed with a sheepish grimace, "but I've had to deal with him on a number of occasions at work recently, and he's always been quite cordial, if a little stiff, those times."

"Maybe he still just hates muggleborns and my mere presence offends him," she quipped quite drolly, and Harry snorted out a laugh.

"Maybe," he agreed.

Hermione let her eyes flicker back up to the blond boy again, and saw him moving away from the group. He was circling the room slowly, but his gaze stayed locked on her. She thought briefly that he really was going to bolt from the room, but he seemed to change his mind at the last moment, and he actually moved closer to where they were dancing. What was he doing? Was he actually going to come over and talk to them?

The fog threatened to invade her mind again. She gripped onto Harry's shoulders tighter, her knuckles white, and whispered to herself to stay calm and take deep breaths. Finally he had moved close enough to them to be standing just out of range on the edge of the dance floor. If Harry spun her again she could probably reach out and touch him. Hermione took a deep breath to calm herself, but she wasn't prepared for how that made her react. She could smell him. He smelt of mint and rich dark chocolate and some kind of expensive cologne.

He smelt familiar.

Malfoy was too close to her now, and the closer he got the more the darkness seemed to spread across her vision. Faintly she saw him frown in concern from over Harry's shoulder, and he stepped forwards towards them. She was panting a bit now as she kept herself on two feet.

"Hermione? You alright?" Harry shuffled backwards a bit to look at her, and she knew he could clearly see her struggling to focus. He wrapped his arms around her waist fully to hold onto her so that she wouldn't topple over. He looked at her worriedly for a few moments, lifting one hand to press it against her forehead. She felt like she was burning up.

"Shit, Hermione" he muttered, "Is it happening again?"

She started to shake her head in the negative, determined to ignore it and hope it would go away, but another wave of dizziness made her change her mind. She nodded curtly, leaning into him a bit for support. Her mind erupted with chaos as she clenched her eyes shut for a moment. She could feel Harry holding her upright, and could hear his voice whispering calming, reassuring words into her ear. But she was losing her grip on reality fast. She thought she might faint, as the dance floor started to spin under her feet and throw off her balance.

In a last ditch effort to recover without completely humiliating herself, she opened her eyes. But Malfoy was there. He was only a metre away now, his eyes wide with concern as her body started to feel so heavy in Harry's arms.

Hermione stared at the blond in confused disbelief. Why did he have this effect on her? And why did her childhood enemy want to approach her now after years of just staring from a distance? She hadn't even formed the question on her lips before the darkness took over, and she felt herself falling. The last thing she was aware of was the flash of a photographer blinding the room from her sight…

….

 **Ok so that's the start of my new story! I'm excited about this one; I have lots of plans for it already. Do you enjoy memory themed fics? Please review and let me know what you're hoping to see this time!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: Ok, so here is the second chapter of Forget Me. Some questions will be answered, but mostly I'll just be teasing what comes next… oooh. I'm glad you're enjoying this already, and I look forward to providing some more thrills in this story. As always, JKR has blown our minds with her magical world.**

….

Draco had been unable to hide his shock when he saw Hermione Granger staring daggers at him across the hall, looking just as she did when they were at Hogwarts. She had that no-nonsense look about her that meant she was feeling determined, and a little bit cross. Her hair was wound up loosely into a bun, but she couldn't stop the few curls from springing out and falling across her neck and face. He had wanted to smile and cry and yell when he saw her; he always got this jumble of emotions when he ran into her. And he would be lying if he said he hadn't decided to come along this evening in the hopes that maybe she would be there. Just like he attended all the ministry events where there was even a slim chance the golden trio would be present. Most of the time he wound up disappointed, but there had been one or two balls she had been present at. He had been able to stare at her for entire evenings as she danced with other men and chatted with her friends, all the while aching inside at the sheer madness of not being allowed to touch her or speak to her.

He had not worked up the courage to approach her yet. He wasn't sure how to act around her. Draco was terrified that she or someone close to her would figure out his secret if he suddenly seemed too friendly. And since he was apparently a pathetic excuse for a Slytherin, he knew he wasn't very good at hiding his reactions to her, or the needy look on his face.

So he had to keep his distance, when all he wanted so badly was to talk to her, to ask her how she was doing.

Well, no…what he _really_ wanted to do right now was stride across the ballroom, photographers be damned, and kiss her senseless. He wanted to wipe any other men from her mind and her body and make his claim. But this was impossible. She had no idea how he felt about her, and even less idea about how she herself used to feel about him.

Draco swallowed heavily and registered how his heart pounded as he circled the dance floor. He felt a thrill go up his spine when he saw the way her gaze lingered on him. This was the first time he had worked up the guts to get this close to her since the war… actually, since he had said goodbye to her at the end of their sixth year. He wondered if it would ever be possible to become her friend again. Could he take this opportunity to start talking to her? To make her see that he really wasn't all that bad. It had worked between them once, so he didn't see why he couldn't start from scratch and make her his friend all over again. She was still the same person, after all. And he knew her well. She just didn't realise it.

Draco felt an unexpected shudder of panic pass through him when he saw how her expression had changed. Her eyelids fluttered and her face had gone as white as a sheet as her bottom lip quivered. She leaned closer into the arms of Potter. To others around them it would have simply seemed as though they were dancing more intimately, but Draco knew all her little expressions and behaviour too well to be fooled. He could tell she was in some kind of…pain, or ill health. Hermione looked like she was about to faint, her whole body tensed and ready to shut down. He looked around the hall at her friends, and at the press gathered anxiously awaiting their next big story.

Was she going to faint? He thought about how mortifying that would be, if something happened. Her eyes had become unfocused and she was swaying on the spot now, but not to the rhythm of the music as before. Draco watched as Potter leaned backwards, realising that his friend was unwell. The boy felt her temperature and asked her a few questions that were drowned out by the orchestra. He looked worried. He held Hermione closer to him as she started to sink against his chest. A few photographers and members of the Prophet were starting to gain interest as Potter's voice rose, calling her name more loudly. Draco stopped caring that everyone was watching, and that he was likely to cause a fuss. He started to move closer, finally stepping out onto the dance floor right near them. Hermione's eyes shot open to stare at him. She looked confused, and was shaking her head minutely as if to ward him off. Their eyes were looked for only a few seconds, but it could have been years. He had yearned for so long to have her give him this kind of intense attention, but now he felt helpless, immobile. If he tried to help her she would only push him away.

"Granger?" Draco asked with concern, watching warily as she blinked a few times and seemed to topple a bit. He wasn't even certain that she had heard him.

"Hermione!" he exclaimed in surprise, and watched as Potter only just managed to hold his arms steady in time to catch her as she fell. Her body landed in the Gryffindor's arms and became a dead weight as the crowd around them gasped.

"Hermione? Bloody hell," Potter shouted, as a swarm of Prophet journalists gathered around like vultures, the flash of cameras firing off left, right and centre.

He lowered them both to the floor carefully, just as Draco rushed over to kneel beside him. His heart was thumping against his ribs painfully as he looked down at her. She was out completely cold. He brushed a curl away from her face and gazed at her with intent scrutiny. Her eyes were roving under their lids and her lip was quivering. Her face had gone so pale it was a ghostly white colour. There wasn't even a flush in her cheeks. Potter's eyes flickered up towards him, looking worried for his friend but also baffled as to why the Slytherin was there beside them.

Draco smoothed a few strands of hair off her face and looked down at her with an intent stare, willing her to open her eyes. What had happened? It all turned bad so suddenly, and now she seemed to be lost in some kind of comatose state, no matter how much he and Potter tried to coax a response. They needed to get her somewhere safe.

"Hermione? Can you hear me?" he tried to wake her again by shaking her shoulders, but she was unresponsive, "We need to move her somewhere, Potter. She's fainted."

"Huh?" the boy asked distractedly, only just hearing him in his own panic.

"The photographers, Potter you moron! We need to move her _now._ "

The other boy nodded and narrowed his eyes in concentration. Potter appeared to focus on the destination very carefully. Draco knew it was a risk to cling onto Hermione and be taken along for the ride, but he was hoping that the intensity and urgency of his determination would help guide him there safely in a side-along apparition.

The pressing sensation of the travel sucked him inwards, numbing him for that split second as all three of their bodies lurched and landed in a completely different place. He felt his stomach roiling at the joint travel, having to basically drag himself through with them, but he pushed it away as he blinked and looked around him.

They were in a hallway with one or two doors that obviously led to a couple of different apartments. He looked up at the number **_3_** painted in gold letters on the door in front of them.

Draco stood, hoisting Hermione up to lie cradled in his arms. She was so light, she weighed practically nothing. In fact, he thought maybe she was skinnier than before. He could feel a couple of ribs protruding and resting against his arm, and he frowned at the thought that she wasn't eating properly. Maybe that was why she had fainted. She had always been a bit reckless with her health when she was studying hard.

"Malfoy-"

"Let's get her inside!"

Potter's face dropped open with surprise as he took in the sight before him. Draco admitted that it probably looked a bit weird, and also maybe a bit familiar, depending on what Potter could recall from their sixth year. The boy never would have thought him capable of jumping in to help his muggleborn friend.

"Wait, Malfoy-" he repeated incredulously, his eyes lowering to take in the sight of Hermione dangling from his arms, her leg at an awkward angle in this position

"Open the damn door, Potter, so we can lie her down," he snarled, in no mood to talk politely to the boy-who-lived. He didn't miss the accusing glare that Potter directed at him before the boy stepped up and unlocked the door with fumbling hands. He gestured his former nemesis hurriedly inside.

"Put her in the bedroom there. First door on the left."

The two boys raced together into the room and Draco lowered her gently down onto the mattress. Potter started pulling up a sheet and fixing her pillow under her head with fussy hands.

"Should we take her to St Mungo's?"

"Of course not," Draco scoffed, "It'd turn into a circus. And I think she just fainted. Is she unwell?"

"Not exactly…" the Gryffindor replied cryptically.

Draco narrowed his eyes at him, but was ignored as Potter went to leave the room, gesturing for him to follow. Draco looked back once more at Granger's petite form lying on the bed. She seemed so tiny and helpless. He gazed sadly for one more second before following Potter.

"I'll call my family healer-" he began, drawing his wand out again to cast the message.

"No, don't" Potter interrupted, striding over to grab a business card stuck to the front of the fridge, "She has a specialist."

Draco froze, watching the other boy check some details on the card before sending the message to the doctor as quickly as he could conjure it.

"Wait a minute…" he said in a stumbling voice, looking at Potter in disbelief as his eyes darted back to the bedroom door, "This has happened before?"

The boy huffed out an annoyed breath, finally spinning around to confront him directly.

"Many times. Though never for this long. It usually only lasts for a few seconds, and never this extreme. Now… it's probably best if you leave."

"Are you kidding me? No, I'll stay."

Potter pursed his lips angrily and stepped forward.

"Look, Malfoy…. Thank you for your help getting her out of there. That was decent of you. But you don't need to stick around to make this any harder for her."

Draco's mind was racing. What was wrong with Granger? Was she ill? It looked like Potter was almost used to dealing with the girl's bad health. And she had her own specialist. He knew that he couldn't leave now. He had to know what was happening. He needed to make sure she was okay. If there was something seriously wrong with Hermione then he would make sure she was given the best care in the wizarding world. He could contact all the best doctor's, no expense spared…

"I'm staying," he declared in a tight voice, not providing any reasoning and refusing to be drawn into an argument.

Before Potter could argue with him, there was a sharp rapping on the door, and with one last dirty look in his direction, the other boy went to answer it. The next few moments passed in a sort of blur to Draco. A doctor strode in who was clearly familiar with Potter as the two shook hands, before the stern looking woman was pointed in the direction of the bedroom. She shot him a curious look before she strode in there to examine Hermione. She shut the door behind her firmly, her bespectacled eyes narrowed in concentration and her tight bun leaving him in no doubt that she was a crisp, professional sort of healer. Once she was gone, that left Draco and Potter alone together in the living room. The silence was immediately awkward between them.

"You really don't have to stay, Malfoy-"

"Maybe you should shut your mouth, Potter, and leave me alone."

The boy frowned at him over the top of his stupid, crooked glasses.

"Why do you care?"

Draco just scowled darkly at him, not bothering to come up with a snide reply.

"Alright, fine," Potter sighed, "The healer may have questions for us both, since we saw her faint. Until then, we'll just sit here in uncomfortable silence, shall we?"

And they did. Draco estimated that it was probably another half an hour before the healer emerged from the bedroom, during which Potter had squirmed awkwardly on the couch, and Draco had allowed himself to drink in all the tiny aspects of Hermione's new home. There were little touches of her everywhere, especially in the many bookshelves that lined the living room walls. He couldn't help but smile once or twice at some of the more ambitious tomes.

When the healer closed the door gently behind her, both boys shot to their feet with identical looks of concern. This was only deepened when they saw the confused frown on her face. She took off her glasses for a moment and rubbed her eyes. When she put them back on she looked over the two boys curiously.

"She's in a sort of coma," the woman began to say in a calm, serious voice, but was interrupted by both boys demanding what she meant. She instantly held up a hand to stem the flow of questions, "She's stable for now, but completely unresponsive. It seems at last our answer to her condition has presented itself, Mister Potter."

The scared Gryffindor took a deep breath and ran his fingers anxiously through his messy brown hair.

"Shit, okay, finally! What is it? What's wrong with her then?"

The woman exhaled slowly and stepped further into the living room.

"She seems to have experienced a significant memory loss in the past. That is what has caused these echoes or incidents of confusion in her mind the last couple of years."

Draco felt his body go completely cold and he nearly stumbled where he stood as the backlash of emotions swept through him. Anger, terror, guilt, loss, disbelief, regret.

 _Oh no… no, no, no, no, no…._

He kept repeating the word to himself numbly, his eyes staring at the healer in heart-breaking astonishment. He wanted to be sick, he wanted to run yelling from the room. He especially wanted to run into that bedroom and shake the witch until she snapped out of it.

"What do you mean? Did she hit her head at some point then?" Potter asked in confusion. The healer shook her head solemnly.

"No, the cause seems to be magical. Most likely an obliviate. There are traces of it appearing now that she is experiencing a crisis."

Draco tried to swallow but his mouth was too dry, and his stomach too unsettled to even attempt it. He willed the woman to find another explanation, anything.

"Wait…wait a minute," he said in a croaking, unsteady voice, "You mean she's been having problems with this for a while now?"

Potter nodded slowly, still looking at him with distrust.

"For years."

The healer nodded.

"Her mind has been trying to cope. You see, from what I've learned about Miss Granger these past few months in our appointments, she's a very rational person. But it looks to me like her rationality is coming into conflict with the lack of memories she is able to access. Her own mind knows something is missing. So it's possible all these episodes that we haven't been able to explain could actually be her brain's way of coping with sudden feelings or instincts she draws from these lost memories, and so it goes into lockdown. I've only seen this happen very rarely, so it didn't occur to me until now."

Potter started to pace across the living room floor in agitation, his hair a mess from running his hands through it.

"So at some point she's been obliviated? Shit. Why would… how did…"

He was rambling, but couldn't seem to string a question together. Draco felt weak. His knees were shaking dangerously and he really, _really_ wanted to vomit. The urge was getting stronger.

"Could you tell me what happened this evening?" the healer asked them both, and Draco shook his head a bit numbly and shifted on his feet.

"She was dancing with Potter. She started to look a bit peaky so I came over to see if she was alright, and then she just collapsed."

"Something must have triggered this. It's possible her instinctive emotions are overriding the memory charm."

"So what exactly is wrong with her now?" Potter asked with a groan, pointing wildly at the bedroom door. The healer sighed and gave them a wry little smile that relaxed her professional demeanour.

"Well…to put it quite simply…she's _remembering_ what she lost."

Draco shut his eyes tight, blocking out his vision of the room. His heart had stopped pounding now and had just decided to cease working altogether. He could feel the hollow pain in his chest gripping him, and he had to force himself to control his breathing. He had done this. He had hurt her. If only he'd known that she was suffering all this time, he could have… done something. Anything. He didn't know what, but surely there was a way to have avoided all this heartache. And now she would wake up and remember _everything_. And she would hate him for doing this to her. He would lose her all over again.

Draco felt his eyes prickling with tears, and he shook his head angrily, opening his eyes to see Potter looking back at him in confusion and hurt. He must look a mess, as he felt the first tear drip from his eyelashes and down his nose.

"Do you have any idea when she could have been cursed?" the healer asked gently. Potter groaned a bit, pacing again and shaking his head.

"No, I dunno…maybe…sometime when we were on the run? That was when the incidents started happening."

Draco sighed, clenching his fists and turning his gaze directly to the healer, trying to appear as calm as he possibly could with wet cheeks and shaking legs.

"It was the day Dumbledore died. At the end of our sixth year."

Potter stopped to gape at him, his eyes wide and furious. He stood spluttering for a few seconds in fury as he stared. There was a ringing silence in the room while Potter absorbed what he had said, before all hell would probably break loose.

"What the _fuck_ did you do to her, Malfoy?"

Draco suddenly didn't care that Potter had been one of his enemies for years. He didn't care about looking weak or scared. He faced the other boy with wide eyes, his panic consuming him completely as he succumbed to the grief of his loss.

"I didn't mean to hurt her," he whined sadly, tears spilling freely now, "I just wanted to save her!"

"You obliviated her! You son of a bitch. That's why you're so fucking worried about her all of a sudden. And why you've been staring at her non-stop every time you see her lately. You're trying to save your own skin and hide what you did!"

Potter took a couple of angry steps forwards, but the healer was wise enough to move in and place a calming hand on his shoulder.

"That won't help, Mister Potter. We need to know everything."

Draco shook his head, running his own hands through his blond hair in a mirror image of Potter and messing it up.

"I thought I did it right. I just removed her memories of me, of certain moments."

The healer nodded slowly and tilted her head to the side.

"Did she consent to the memory alteration?"

"Not exactly," he replied through gritted teeth.

"Was there any backlash at the time you cast it? Any indication that she was fighting it off?"

He blinked a couple of times.

"Well…of course there was. She was distraught. It hurt me just to incant the spell."

"Hmm, that's interesting. Your obvious unwillingness to do it to her may have affected the strength and longevity of the charm."

"Oh bloody hell," he murmured, dropping his head and clenching his eyes shut to try and block out the guilt.

"How much memory was there?" the healer asked, "A few hours? Days? Weeks?"

Draco shook his head, sobbing a bit as he tried to choke out the words.

"Months. I had to erase months of memories from her. Or she would have been in danger. You have to understand-" he directed this part at Potter, who was looking sort of stunned now more than angry, "I just wanted to keep her alive. Even if it meant I lost her."

Potter just gaped at him like a fish. He seemed to have lost the ability to talk, so after a few moments he just sat down on the couch, slumped over with his head in his hands.

"Oh shit," the boy murmured, "I don't know what to say,"

After a long, uncomfortable pause during which Draco attempted to collect himself a bit more, Potter finally raised his head to look at him with fire in his gaze.

"I should hit your ferret face, Malfoy!" he hissed in a threatening growl.

"So do it," he challenged quietly. The two stared each other down. They had always hated each other, but now neither knew how to react to these new developments. There was just this sort of emptiness between them, filled with their mutual terror for Hermione.

"Tell me everything," Potter said at last.

"You'll have time for that soon," the healer chimed in, checking her watch, "I need to get back to the hospice. Let me run through what you need to do now."

Potter swung around to face her.

"You're leaving?"

"Yes, I have other patients who need me. But Miss Granger is actually very stable. I'd say that she will be unconscious for a few hours at least before she wakes. And there should be no _physical_ damage. Having said that, she may need some emotional support."

"So…she'll just wake up with a whole bunch of new memories?" Potter asked.

"Well, they'll be old memories. She will have simply recovered them," the healer moved towards the door, turning to Draco with a curious gaze, "is there anything that you think is likely to distress her?"

Draco nodded numbly.

"Yes."

The woman grimaced.

"Call me when she wakes. I may be of assistance with the transition."

"Thank you, Dr. Grace," Potter said with a sigh. The doctor wrote down some additional phone numbers on a scrap of parchment and left them with the boys.

After she had gone, there was an incredibly awkward silence between the boys. Potter collapsed back into the couch with a tired groan, running his hands over his face. Draco mirrored his position on the opposite couch. He could smell Hermione's scent all over the cushions and it was making the ache in his chest sharper as the guilt sat in his stomach like a poison.

"Maybe I should fetch Ron, he won't know we came back here. He'll probably try the hospital if I don't-" Potter murmured, but then he saw Draco's dark, menacing look and he grimaced a bit, "or maybe not. I suppose that would be a bad idea."

"Let's not call in the cavalry yet, Potter. Hermione's already going to kill me. I'd prefer not to be dead before she gets the chance."

The boy-who-lived snorted and shook his head. He leaned forwards so that his arms were resting on his knees and his expression was serious.

"Alright then. But since we're stuck here together for a few hours or who knows how long, then you have a lot of explaining to do."

Draco sighed, his teeth grinding together at the prospect of baring his heart and soul to Harry bloody Potter.

"If this is my punishment then it's a tad extreme," he muttered resentfully.

"You don't really have a leg to stand on right now," Potter spat in response, "You cursed my friend and caused her years of misery and heartache from not knowing what was wrong, why she felt so incomplete. So you'd better give me a damn good reason why I shouldn't just hand you over to the aurors or hex you myself."

Draco contemplated the boy before him. Potter had grown up. He was no longer the scared, slightly dense boy that he had hated in school. War had changed both of them it seemed. He contemplated a spot on the rug beneath his feet for a while as he worked up the guts to speak.

"Are you sure you want to know?" he asked quietly, his eyes never leaving the floor.

"Yes. Tell me _everything._ "

Draco sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, leaning his head back on the couch. He allowed himself the luxury of thinking back to those days at school, the time he had spent with Hermione. A smile teased at his lips as he remembered how it had all began. Even though the anxiety that had settled in his chest was still a heavy weight dragging him down further and further, he experienced a tingling of happiness at the memories. He pictured her studious, curly head bent over a thick book. The feel of her soft hand in his. He imagined that wry, almost secretive smile she had reserved just for him, that had made his pulse race.

Not that it had started that way…

"Alright," he agreed at last with a sigh of resignation as the memories swelled up inside him, itching to take control of him once more, "But you're not going to like it."

….

 **Ok, so you may have already guessed that after this point we go back in time to their sixth year at Hogwarts. I promise all your questions will eventually be answered! Please leave me reviews – they inspire me!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: Okay folks now that I've been so evil with cliff-hangers, let's go** ** _back in time_** **… As always, JKR is divine for lending me these characters.**

 **...**

 **November 14** **th** **1998**

Sometimes Hermione hated being smarter than everyone else.

She stomped towards the library, seething over the echoes of Lavender and Pavarti giggling about boys or hair products or something equally inane, while she had been trying to study. There was simply nowhere in Gryffindor tower that she could escape to without wanting to bite through her own tongue in frustration.

She had long ago given up joining her friends in front of the fire every night for their cosy chats that had sustained them in their younger years. Now she only sought to exile herself far away from the gossip and teenage drama that were rampant in the common room.

She couldn't pretend that she didn't see the impact that her attitude had on her relationship with her peers this year. They were more likely to ignore her or scorn her when they accused her of getting in the way of them having fun. Fortunately she still had Harry and Ron. But it seemed like even the two of them were moving further and further away from her sometimes; Harry was pining after Ginny (it was about time he saw what was right under his nose) and Ron seemed to be chasing every skirt that Hogwarts had to offer.

But she didn't resent the boys their feelings. They just never quite realised that being the brightest witch of her age was both intimidating and frustrating for sparking new relationships, so she was happy to just keep to herself. Boys their age simply couldn't keep up, so she had decided to find sanctuary in the one place in the school where she truly felt at peace.

Hermione walked brusquely in the direction of the library, even though it was getting late and curfew would be upon the school soon. The corridors were quite deserted, but she was hoping that being a prefect, and every teacher's favourite student (except for Snape, obviously) would help her avoid punishment. She really wanted that book on shield spells.

Hermione knew that a war was coming. It had already started. Even now Harry had too much weight on his shoulders. So she knew what needed to be done. If perfecting things like healing, shielding and battle spells would help Harry, then she would spend every waking minute making sure she was perfect at them. She wryly admitted to herself that she'd done so much extra studying she could probably sit her Defence Against the Dark Arts NEWT tomorrow and get an Outstanding, even though she was only in sixth year. As she slipped through the library doors, glad to see Madam Pince must be seconded in her office somewhere, she made her way quickly over to the DADA section.

Hermione felt a warm security settle on her as she walked down the aisle, her fingers running gently over the spines of the books on the shelves, almost lovingly, as she searched for the title she had scrawled onto a scrap of parchment. She had a smile on her face, which turned into an excited grin when she spotted the book she was looking for.

She snatched it off the shelf and strode over to her favourite table towards the back of the library, hidden in a private little alcove. She didn't even look where she was going; her head was already buried in the pages. She plonked herself into a seat and got to work with a fierce but bright scowl of determination.

….

Draco Malfoy was exhausted. He could feel his eyes drooping, but blinked them open forcefully and stared at the page in front of him. He was sure he'd read the same paragraph multiple times, and knew it was getting too late to be studying such complex vanishing spells. Not that he'd be able to sleep properly anyway if he returned to his room. It had been about three months since he'd been capable of sleeping fully through the night. Three months since he'd been branded, and the mark was still not fully healed. He clenched his fist and pushed away the feeling of shivers that crept over his left arm and spine at the memory, wanting desperately to just shove up his sleeve and itch at the red skin. It would do no good to think about it. This was what his father had gotten them into, and he had to see it through. For his parents.

Of course, if Pansy or Crabbe and Goyle asked him, he'd say this was an honour and a privilege. He'd lord it over them and turn up his nose, because he had been chosen personally by the Dark Lord to serve him and they had not. Sometimes he almost choked on the thought, but he hadn't survived as a Malfoy so long without the ability to lie convincingly. He supposed he knew deep down somewhere what an honour it was, and how important his role would be, but the memories of being in pain and being tortured at his initiation were too fresh not to feel sick in the stomach most of the time.

His disturbing thoughts were broken when he heard a soft tapping on the wooden floors of the library. His head shot up and he stared in annoyance at the curly haired figure strolling down one of the aisles near him, affectionately stroking the books like they were pets.

 _Bloody Granger,_ he snarled to himself, _always got her nose shoved so deep in a book… she thinks she's so high and mighty._

He had never lived down from his very first year at Hogwarts, that a muggle-born witch could beat him in absolutely every subject he attempted. Even in Potions, which was supposed to be his best subject. Even with Snape's obvious favouritism, she still got better grades than him.

He could vividly remember his father grilling him in the school holidays about why he wasn't first in his year. He had begrudgingly told his father that an upstart muggle-born had beaten him in everything. Lucius had been furious.

 _"You find a way to destroy the filthy mudblood, Draco – she is not worthy of the dirt you walk on. I don't care how. Just knock her down."_

He had so wanted his father's approval. But he had failed every single time.

That's why he hated her.

She grabbed a book excitedly and moved to sit down on the opposite side of the alcove to where he was. He rolled his eyes with an expression of disgust. She didn't even notice him.

No wonder she never got shagged. Even her permanent shadows, the two idiots of Gryffin-dork tower couldn't get into her pants. He'd once overheard her being referred to in whispers as the ice queen of Hogwarts by some tittering Hufflepuff Third-Years. He just thought she was a stuck-up prude.

Reminding himself sternly once more that she was beneath him and that he should ignore her completely, he returned to his book. If nothing else, her infuriating presence had woken him up long enough to take a few more notes about apparition wards and their limitations.

But as he became totally absorbed in his work once more he started to forget she was even there. The scribbling of the two quills blended together under the echoing ceiling. And after a time the tiredness returned. Deciding, as he leaned his face into his hands, that he would just rest his eyes for a moment, Draco leaned forward with his lids squeezed shut, as the dim candles in the library flickered and began to burn down around him.

….

Hermione's heart jumped in shock at the whimpering noise that reverberated across the little alcove, ringing off the mahogany desks surrounding her.

She raised her head quickly, giving her neck an unpleasant crick, and her wide eyes shot straight to the lone figure sitting a couple of desks away from her. She hadn't even noticed the other person in the library; his blond head slumped over the desk. That's what happened when she got absorbed in a train of thought; she became totally oblivious to everything around her.

But then she was reminded of what made her look up in the first place. The figure whimpered again, followed by a deep, almost panicked groan.

Her nerves started to flutter at the pitiful sounds and she quickly shot to her feet in alarm and approached the person. As she neared their desk she realised with a painful plummeting of her gut that the person was none other than Draco sodding Malfoy. She supposed the hair should have given him away.

She frowned. The pureblood snob had clearly fallen asleep and was having some kind of nightmare.

 _He's probably having a nightmare about being surrounded by mudbloods,_ she thought with a bitter frown, _that'd make him squirm for sure._

She stood near him for quite a while contemplating the situation. She supposed she should hold absolutely no compassion for Malfoy personally. He was a foul git and deserved another slap in the face. Sometimes she daydreamed about that time she clocked him one in the nose, and her hand tingled with the desire to do it again.

But those whimpering noises…they sounded terrifying.

And no one, not even the son of a murdering bigoted death eater deserved those kinds of nightmares. She should know. They had been her constant companions ever since the fight at the ministry.

Eventually, after Malfoy emitted a truly frightening moan of pain, Hermione made the sudden decision to step forward and sink quietly into the seat next to him. She placed her hand gently on his shoulder, realising how cold it was when his whole body shivered under her touch. She gripped him a little harder and shook him slightly.

"Malfoy," she murmured.

When he didn't wake, she shook slightly harder.

"Malfoy, wake up you git," she said a little louder.

Of course she expected him to wake up, that was her intention, but she still got a shock when he shot upright suddenly. Hermione spluttered out a strangled gasp.

His body might have been stone cold to touch, but he was sweating feverishly. His eyes were wide and haunted as he launched out with one hand in terror and grabbed her wrist where it had been resting on his shoulder. He grasped her so tight she winced and tried to pull back, but he only pulled her closer with a furious growl.

"Granger!" he spat in a hoarse whisper, "What the fuck?"

Hermione shuddered at his harsh tone as she felt his hot breath on her face.

"Shhh…keep your voice down," she responded quietly once she had recovered from the shock, "Do you want to get us caught by Madam Pince?"

Draco was still blinking in bewilderment, his sleepy and terrified mind catching up. But he didn't loosen his grip at all.

"What the hell are you trying to pull, mudblood?" he snarled.

Hermione felt her anger boil at his words.

"Oh, because Merlin forbid I should show a little kindness, even to a spoilt prick like you!"

"Kindness? What the hell are you on about?" he spat back at her.

"You were having a nightmare right in the middle of the bloody library _after curfew,_ and your pathetic moans would have landed us both in serious trouble if Pince or Filch had heard!"

Draco's face drained of all colour, and she could tell he was furious at having been caught by _her_ of all people having bad dreams. She could practically see the gears turning in his head as he glared at her in mortified anger.

"Yeh, well I'd rather a whole term of detentions with the useless squib than have you molesting me."

"Excuse me? _Molesting_ you, really? You should be thanking me you stupid prat!"

"Oh yes," he replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "thank you, princess, for sticking your big ugly muggle nose into my business. You're such a high and mighty little mud-"

"Shut up!" she whispered, grabbing onto his arm tightly to stem his rant, and squeezing him in her panic as she heard the rhythmic tapping of footsteps nearby. Draco froze as he heard them too, and thankfully stopped talking. They both breathed a sigh of relief when the sound soon drifted past them and faded. Hermione guessed that Pince was just passing through to her chambers for the night, having assumed that no more students were in here so late.

Without realising it, she had not released her grip on his arm and they were still joined, together nervously as she passed. But once the sound had died and they had breathed deeply in again, Draco looked down at the connection between them with a wave of revulsion and confusion. He literally threw her away from him in disgust, and Hermione brought her hand up to her chest as if she'd been stung.

Malfoy took the chance while she was dazed to lean closer to her, intimidating her by tilting his head with a threatening growl.

"If you breathe a word of this to anyone, Granger-"

"Don't be ridiculous! Why would I-"

"I know your two idiot shadows would get a kick out of this and have a good laugh, I'm not stupid you know."

"I would never-"

"You'd better not, Mudblood."

Hermione glared at him while he picked up his stuff and prepared to stride out of the hidden alcove with the remaining tatters of his dignity. But before he could leave, Hermione murmured the words straight off the top of her head that made him pause and shiver.

"You should take better care of yourself…"

As soon as she said it, Hermione pursed her lips shut tight in a thin line, wanting to take it back. Why would she say something like that to the spoilt inbred wanker who had just called her such a filthy word simply because her parents were muggles?

But then she was the sort of person who cared about everyone, even pretentious little tossers like him. She couldn't help herself. Draco didn't turn around. His step faltered a little but he kept moving, his chin in the air, until he left the sanctuary of the library.

….

Once he had rushed through a few winding corridors, Draco leaned against the wall as his brain whirred. He rested his flushed forehead against the cool stone and took a deep breath, finally able to breathe properly now that he was on his own. His thoughts were filled with Hermione Granger. The famous princess of Gryffindor, brains of the Golden Trio, and supposedly the brightest witch of her age. She'd caught him swept up in the middle of a nightmare, right in the middle of the fucking library. He'd humiliated himself in front of the one person whom he so desperately tried to appear more superior to, and who he tried and usually failed to be more intelligent than.

And she'd woken him up.

His mind desperately tried to figure out what kind of prank she'd been pulling. He searched his memory for any expression on her face that would suggest that she was laughing at him or mocking him. But there had been absolutely no hint of malice. She had looked genuinely concerned. A little frightened when he'd grabbed her and threatened her. But she'd stood her ground. And then…

 _You should take better care of yourself…_

She'd said that!

The stupid mudblood had gone and shown him this tiniest, almost insignificant bit of kindness. Few other people in his life had said something like that to him in over two years. Not even his closest friends in Slytherin had dared to say something so disingenuously gentle to him, in that kind of soft, soothing voice that one might use to address a sick child. Certainly not since he'd been cursed with his Dark Mark and welcomed into the fold of Death Eaters to pay for his father's crimes. He had been completely alone.

He shook his head violently. He was still alone. She was just a nosy, good-for-nothing know-it-all! And she was beneath his notice. His father would say that her blood was black and murky like a poison, and he shouldn't let it infect him.

He didn't know how to account for the fact that she was so smart. Lucius had never been able to offer him answers as to _why_ she could outscore him in every test; he had merely punished Draco for the fault of not being good enough. But there had to be a logical explanation. Lucius was of the opinion that it was Draco's own failings somehow; he wasn't trying hard enough.

He pushed off the wall angrily and strode towards the Slytherin common room, determined to at least attempt some more sleep tonight. And if he had more nightmares…well at least _she_ wouldn't be there to witness them. He had already spent far too long contemplating Hermione Granger, and he didn't want to waste another precious second on her.

Forcing her out of his mind and wanting to forget the entire mortifying evening, he hitched his bag up higher and quickened his pace to avoid getting a detention from Snape as he neared the dungeons.

….

It had been three weeks since _The Incident_ as she referred to it in her own mind, and Hermione found that she just couldn't help herself. Almost unconsciously at first, she had started watching Draco Malfoy a little more closely. For once she actually tried to be a bit more Slytherin in her approach, and was very careful not to let him see her watching him. She certainly wasn't being as obvious as Harry, probably since they had very different motives.

Harry was obsessed. He was so certain Malfoy was a Death Eater and that he was up to no good. He wanted to catch him in the act. Hermione, on the other hand, wanted to _understand_ him.

She had seen a glimpse of something different in him in the library…something _human_. And whenever Hermione Granger was faced with the unknown, she desperately needed to uncover the truth. There had been the mystery of Nicholas Flamel in first year, Slytherin's monster in second year, Snape's Werewolf essay in third, and even Harry's tasks in the triwizard tournament. Hermione had a thirst for uncovering what was hidden from her. She had always been an insatiably curious girl. And the new mystery that Draco Malfoy had now posed in her mind was that he wasn't the same person she had always assumed he was. She had always thought of him as just a cruel, arrogant and prejudiced boy. But now he was someone who had bad dreams that haunted him wherever he went. He looked less proud and less in control of himself. And that was something that required research. She supposed before now she had always just tried to ignore him. She'd never seriously thought that he was an evil git through and through like Harry and Ron always said, but hadn't exactly considered all his different shades of grey either. But now she had started to wonder about him. He was so painfully human, with a colourful array of virtues as well as vices just like anyone else. And she had to consider as well that many of his worst vices were probably a product of a very narrow-minded upbringing.

Malfoy was clearly troubled by something. She had now seen that pained expression on his face when he was in the depths of a nightmare. She had witnessed his mortification and terror upon waking. She knew now that there was something deeply disturbing him.

Which brought her back to eating breakfast so early in the Great Hall. It was only 7:00am and most students were still in bed as it was a Saturday. They were having a luxurious and well earned sleep-in; all except for a few Hufflepuffs, some stressed out Seventh Year students from various houses, her and Malfoy.

Hermione had always been an early riser. Her body simply woke her up with the sun. And Malfoy was also clearly something of an insomniac. It was no wonder, since his sleep was clearly disrupted by dark thoughts. If he was having these nightmares frequently, then that would certainly explain why he seemed to beat even _her_ to the Great Hall for breakfast on the weekends.

What made this morning unusual, however, was the unexpected arrival of her dearest friend Harry to her side. He plonked down into the seat next to her with bleary eyes and a scowl, but still managed to slip her a brief smile. He looked like death cooled down, and his hair was completely wild as if he just stepped out of bed, so she got the feeling that he hadn't slept well either. It was strange how the three students who were arguably the most involved in this war were the ones unable to find sleep. Her, Harry and Malfoy.

Ron's experience just wasn't the same. Unlike the rest of them, Ron had a loving family surrounding him who understood the perils of magic and how to construct good morals and happiness in the face of it. He was also dense enough to not fully understand his situation. Harry on the other hand was too jaded to ignore the darkness surrounding them and Draco was too…smart. He was only just a close second to her in the year. And anyway, Ron had been knocked out quite soon at the ministry. Why would the Death Eaters target him when they could chase after The Chosen One and his mudblood sidekick? Ron had actually gotten away pretty easily.

Hermione turned her attention back to her friend as he groaned tiredly. She was trying to take care of him as best she could. She filled his cup with tea and buttered some toast for him, and he took it with a grateful smile.

"What would I do without you, Mione?"

It was his special name for her. No one else seemed to understand their relationship, and why they were both so horrified by Rita Skeeter's comments about their alleged romance. They were too much like a brother and sister to each other that it felt kind of yucky for people to suggest anything romantic about them.

Hermione leaned closer to him and bumped her shoulder affectionately against his.

"You'd probably be dead," she said in a mock serious voice, and Harry chortled into his scrambled eggs.

"I'd have been eaten by a basilisk."

Despite the gruesome thought, Hermione giggled.

"What a way to go, though. I can see the headline. Chosen One Consumed by Giant Mythological Snake. Death Eaters throw opulent funeral."

Harry burst into laughter, drawing a few stares from the other early risers, and especially the teachers, who looked down on them fondly.

Hermione was just re-filling Harry's tea again and was encouraging him to take a few more mouthfuls of his eggs, while he smiled with fond indulgence at her, when she felt a prickle on her neck. Someone was watching her. She raised her eyes and met the gaze of Draco Malfoy, who was scowling at her from across the room. She shivered with discomfort at the anger and intensity of his stare, but no sooner had it begun, than Malfoy shot to his feet, tearing his eyes from hers, and strode out of the Great Hall leaving half a plate of food behind.

"He's up to something…" Harry murmured with a grumpy frown.

"Harry-" she began with a sigh.

"Trust me, Mione, he's a Death Eater. And I'm going to find out what he's planning."

Choosing not to enter into this debate, since it would only lead to an argument, she shut her mouth and kept her eyes curiously on the doorway where Malfoy had left, thinking his behaviour was certainly very strange.

….

Draco didn't know why he felt so annoyed. He'd seen how close the Golden Trio of dorks were before, but it wasn't often that those two were caught alone without the dumb ginger menace acting as a barrier. Potter and Granger had the kind of closeness that Draco had never experienced with anyone in his entire life. Normally he didn't give a shit; he was just fine on his own. Skeeter's articles used to make him want to barf. That scar-faced loser just loved the limelight.

He wasn't sure why it made him so angry now to see her taking care of him. He supposed it was because it brought back unpleasant memories of a soft hand on his shoulder, a look of concern.

 _You should take better care of yourself…_

Draco snorted. He couldn't seriously be jealous that Granger was compassionate towards everyone. She probably cried when she stepped on a bug. Maybe for one brief second before he quashed it behind a lifetime of hatred and prejudice, she had made him feel like someone…cared, as juvenile as that sounded. But clearly that was just who she was, it had nothing to do with him. And who gave a damn what a little muggle spawn like her thought anyway? She needed to stay out of his business or he would be in danger. It had been a stupid, insignificant moment. A joke. And he needed to stop thinking about it.

Draco grit his teeth and put it out of his mind, heading up towards the Room of Requirement for a day of problem solving with the Vanishing Cabinet.

….

 **Oh dear, they have a long way to go yet. There are so many decisions I need to make moving forwards with this story - it's exciting! Please leave your usual lovely reviews to inspire me to write faster.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: Here we go! I'm getting back into the flow of writing, and seem to be okay with posting an update once a week. Once the Christmas holidays come it might increase but let's wait and see. As always, I bow down to the magnificent JKR.**

….

Hermione was sitting in the same spot in the library where Malfoy had fallen asleep just two weeks ago before the incident. She was peering down with narrowed eyes at her notebook and tapping her fingers impatiently on the desk. There was something big she was missing here. And she hated not knowing. She couldn't help but feel that there was some kind of darker mystery going on around them– wasn't there always? – and she couldn't quite put the puzzle pieces together yet. She desperately wanted to figure it out. It was like a wisp of something just beyond her reach that she kept grabbing at, but the more she tried the further away it seemed to get. Perhaps she was overthinking it. Hermione squinted her eyes a bit and glared at the few notes she had taken, as if they had offended her. It wasn't much, just a short list of things going on this year that she had deemed worthy of her suspicion.

 _The Prophecy – Chosen One?_

 _Bourgin and Burkes, Dark Item. Set of two._

 _Fenrir Greyback_

 _Draco Malfoy – possible Death Eater?_

 _Lucius Malfoy in prison_

 _Professor Slughorn – retired Potions teacher. Slug Club._

 _Snape: DADA (only one year?)_

 _Dumbledore's hand. LEFT hand. Curse wound. Possible Dark Magic._

 _Malfoy's Nightmares_

 _The Half-Blood Prince. Potions prodigy. Dangerous spells._

 _Harry's private lessons about the history of Tom Riddle._

She had written the list out both normally and in Ancient Runes, as well as fiddling around with some Arithmatic equations. These were all the clues she had to work with.

She couldn't help but have faith in Professor Snape, even though Harry seemed determined to despise and mistrust him. Unlike her repeated insistences to Harry and Ron, it wasn't because she simply trusted Dumbledore. Snape had never given her a reason to doubt him and, even further than that, he had actively saved their lives or worked to protect them numerous times. She knew he had contacted the Order the moment Harry had devised his crazy scheme to fly to the Ministry. And he had done far more than was necessary to help heal them in the infirmary later. He could have just hidden in his precious dungeon and simply left her dealing with a hideous, disfiguring scar on her chest, but instead she knew he had worked tirelessly with Pomfrey to minimise the curse wound. Snape had done the right thing enough times to earn her grudging respect. Even though she would never forgive him for the comment about her teeth in fourth year.

As for Slughorn, there was something strange about his appointment. And would Snape really only last one year in his new cursed job? It only increased her feeling that something bad was coming as the year went on. It infuriated her that she could sense this storm brewing, building to some kind of inevitable, devastating climax, but she couldn't sort out the possibilities in her mind.

Her biggest worry was Dumbledore's hand. She had read enough about incurable curses to feel a sense of impending doom. Her curiosity had been stirred when her Aunt Jocelyn got cancer only a year ago, so she had done some research into magical equivalents and cures. She had discovered how some kinds of dark magic grew and spread through the bloodstream of a witch or wizard, just like muggle cancer, with no hope of any treatment. It was much more rare in this world, but it still happened to the unlucky few. She had observed enough of the similarities between her Aunt's case and what she had studied about wizarding illness to see some warning signs. She hadn't expressed her concerns to Harry. He thought Dumbledore was infallible. She knew better.

As for Draco Malfoy… Well, he was another worry that gnawed at her. She had not given up her observations of him. Based on what she had seen of his behaviour these past few days, she had made another list below the first one.

 _Nightmares_

 _Doesn't eat much._

 _Lost weight._

 _Pale. Well, more than usual._

 _Arithmancy class – clammy hands when writing an equation on the board._

 _Caught him hanging around the seventh floor twice._

 _More withdrawn than usual from friends. No sign of Crabbe or Goyle._

 _Doesn't seem to like saying 'Mudblood' as much._

The last one was strange. Although he still sneered at her, and bumped her shoulder when he could get away with jostling her in the absence of her overprotective friends, he had become surprisingly silent since the incident between them here in the library. She could see him almost wanting to say it when he passed her sometimes, wanting to spit it at her, but then he would just look slightly queasy and glare at her, as if she had injured him somehow.

In Arithmancy classes she noticed this in particular. The class was full of Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws, all paired up with friends, and they were the only two from the other houses. Clearly this would become an issue, if Professor Vector had anything to do about it. Already they had been paired once to complete a problem. At first they had exchanged looks of abject horror, but Vector had been deaf to their spluttering disgust. So by some kind of awkward mutual understanding, they had simply worked in complete silence to reach the answer by themselves without ever interacting. Since they were the two top students in the class by a mile they were quite capable of it, but the task had been a relatively easy one. Malfoy had stormed out of the room in a rage the moment Vector spoke up to dismiss them, having not said the word mudblood once the whole lesson.

Hermione frowned and leaned back in her cushiony library chair. Clearly Malfoy was embroiled in something this year that coincided with his father's imprisonment. While she didn't want to add flame to Harry's fire, she thought it obvious that he was drawn into some plot of Voldemort's. He had spent a lot of time in the library researching lately, although he studiously ignored her and avoided staying late so as not to repeat the incident. But he also clearly wasn't doing schoolwork, since the texts were on obscure topics and his notes were not particularly well organised into his books. If anything, his grades were dropping this year.

Her only real questions were; what was he doing? And was he doing it _willingly_? It was clear to her that he was suffering somehow, and that he was isolating himself from his usual school life. The sight of him in the throes of a nightmare had turned her opinion of him on its head. It was not the appearance of a proud follower or Death Eater. He seemed far too tormented by whatever it was, not his usual arrogant superior self. Almost as if he were doubting himself.

Hermione sighed and dropped her head into her hands. She just hoped that Harry wouldn't get too involved and make things worse. He could very well send Malfoy over the edge.

….

"What do you mean Malfoy isn't playing?" Ron shouted.

Hermione rolled her eyes at the over-the-top expression of horror on her friend's face. She kept reading as studiously as she could with him leaning over her with a mouthful of sausage.

"I'm serious. They've got Harper playing Seeker!" Harry said distantly. He was frowning in obvious suspicion, his hand clenched around his fork. Hermione huffed out a breath and tried to bury her nose deeper into the book.

"That slimy git! How dare he!"

Harry nodded.

"He's a ferrety little coward."

"There should be a rule against dropping out like that."

Hermione couldn't help but let out another huff of air.

"Care to share, Mione?" Harry turned to her with a penetrating stare.

She paused and met their angry eyes.

"Well…surely you should be happy he's not playing…" she said after a while of internal debating. Logically, she knew it was really pointless to get involved in any kind of discussion relating to Quidditch.

" _Happy_?"

"Harper is nowhere near as good as Malfoy. You will have a better chance of beating them."

Ron stared at her with his mouth wide open. She tried to smother the feeling of frustration. She really did hate all this Quidditch talk and should never have spoken up.

"That's not the point, Hermione! You just don't understand."

"Clearly," she muttered sarcastically.

"I can't believe you took Malfoy's side!"

Hermione stared at Ron for a moment before snorting.

"How on earth am I on Malfoy's uh… _side_?"

"You obviously seem to think he's a decent seeker or something. It's total rubbish. I'm telling you, Hermione, that filthy pointy nosed bastard couldn't find the Snitch if I shoved it up his own arse."

"Charming," she commented, lifting the book up and once again reading. And then she blocked out the rest of their conversation for fear of her sanity flying away from her.

….

Draco watched from a window as the whole school headed down in dribs and drabs towards the Quidditch pitch. He remembered wistfully a time when the only thing that seemed to matter to him was beating stupid Potter at Quidditch. And pissing off _king_ Weasley. Now it all seemed so trivial.

 _Although that was a damn catchy song._

He wasn't even playing Quidditch this year. He'd dropped out. It didn't matter. Who cared about winning the House Cup when the Dark Lord had threatened to murder his parents if he didn't murder Albus Dumbledore?

Leaning his head against the glass, Draco breathed in and out deeply, fogging up the window. He supposed he should get to work. The entire school would be occupied for a while, and it was the perfect chance for him to make some progress in the Room of Requirement. But couldn't seem to find the energy to move from his spot, so he just stood there numbly, gazing down on the grounds below with a slight pain in his chest, as if he could just wish away his problems.

….

Hermione was preparing to race down to the Quidditch pitch, shoving the book she had been reading down to the bottom of her bag. She was running a little late, but couldn't summon up the effort to pretend she cared that much. She had just honestly never felt as excited about it as the other students. Obviously she wanted her boys to win, and enjoyed seeing them so happy, but she wasn't about to step out of her comfort zone to turn into some kind of groupie like Lavender Brown. A simple Gryffindor scarf would do to show her support. Some of the other girls went a bit overboard with ribbons and face paint. Although she had to admit wryly that Luna Lovegood had a lot more style than the rest.

Feeling a prickle on her neck, a common sensation these past few weeks, she turned and caught a glimpse of blond hair in one of the windows above the entrance. She frowned. Even though he had dropped out of the team, she expected him to attend the game still. Everyone went to the games.

As her frown deepened, she made a split second decision. It was probably a stupid idea, and she cursed herself as she turned around. She ran back into the castle against the tide of students heading down towards the pitch, repeating words of reproach to herself in an angry whisper.

"Hermione?" she heard Neville call as she brushed past him, "Where are you going? It starts in 15 minutes!"

"I'm coming, Neville! I just forgot something."

And then it was too late to turn back. She just hoped she hadn't completely lost her mind.

….

Draco was pacing back and forth in the third floor corridor. He was contemplating going into the bathroom nearby and washing his face to calm his tired nerves, knowing that no one would find him there. That was where Moaning Myrtle lived. But before he could make up his mind, he noticed a shadow against the wall and he spun around with his wand outstretched. Hermione Granger was standing there staring at him with wide doe eyes. Her face was flushed from running and the biting cold of the wind outside, and her hair was actually tied back neatly into a braid instead of hanging loose. But the bottom of her chin was covered up by a warm red and gold scarf that made him want to sneer at her. Instead he just sighed and shifted his footing, but didn't lower his wand.

"You should know better than to sneak up on me, Granger."

"You should know better than to point your wand at me in plain sight of teachers."

He snorted and lowered his wand with a mocking smirk, his eyes glittering dangerously.

"What the hell do you want? Shouldn't you be at the game?"

"Shouldn't _you_ be at the game?"

He sighed and a fierce look of contempt crossed his face. He saw Granger swallow and clench her fists.

"So we're going to play these childish word games are we?"

Granger tried to look more relaxed, cocking her hip and putting her hand on her waist while giving him a direct, questioning glare. She had never looked more like a Gryffindor. He braced himself for what she was about to say, wary of the determination in her gaze.

"You know you've lost a bunch of weight this year. And you're paler, which I didn't think was possible since you're practically translucent on a normal day."

Draco blinked in surprise at her words and took a threatening step forwards.

"What the fuck are you on about? Are you stalking me, Granger?"

She snorted.

"Hardly. But I do have eyes."

Draco couldn't believe what he was hearing. Why was Hermione Granger talking about his changed appearance? If he didn't know any better, he'd say she sounded like a worried friend or parent quizzing him about his health. Just like when she'd fed Potter the other week at breakfast. She had that bossy air about her.

"You have absolutely no business sticking your nose in where it doesn't belong, you worthless little… mudblood."

He expected more anger from her, like she'd reacted last time he'd said it to her face in the library, hoping it would make her back off. He was really hoping she wouldn't notice the way he almost flinched when he said it. But instead she just rolled her eyes. He couldn't even put his finger on why it came out so hesitantly. There just seemed to be a blockage of some kind, like his mouth wouldn't co-operate with his brain. It was almost as if saying it to her only made her stronger. She would just straighten herself up, raise her chin and look more confident than ever. Which was the opposite of what he wanted. Wasn't it?

"What's wrong with you?" she challenged, "Are you insane? Or just stupid?" Draco spluttered but she held up a hand to stop him interrupting, "I don't know what you're up to this year, and I know you're up to _something,_ but you're going to draw attention to yourself."

Draco glared at her, his blood boiling inside him, and he wanted to do something, lash out at her, anything to make her scared or unsettle her like she'd just unsettled him.

"Well maybe if you removed the stick from your ass and looked properly, you'd see that I'm fine. Better than fine – I'm having a great year now that the Dark Lord is rising. I can't wait for him to put muggle filth like _you_ in their place."

Granger frowned at him crossly, and he felt her breath on his face as she released a sigh. He hadn't realized that he'd stalked so close to her, but he was panting and as he took in each deep breath he realised he could smell her as he towered over her. Apricots and fresh parchment. He almost spluttered and choked on it.

"Do you honestly believe that, Malfoy?" she asked more softly, the anger fading quite quickly from her expression.

Malfoy grit his teeth together and stared at her in confusion. He couldn't work out why she would ask him that. Did she have no self-preservation? He knew that Granger was fond of pity projects like the bloody house elves, but this was too much.

"Of course I do-"

"Then why do you look like a ghost this year? You're clearly exhausted…"

Draco stepped in towards her again, but because they were so close it forced Granger to press her back against the wall behind her. He heard her inhale a small gasp of surprise at the touch of cold stone between her shoulder blades, and he smirked menacingly.

She was right, of course, although he guessed she didn't really know she was right. He was a Malfoy after all, and had perfected the art of lying convincingly. But she seemed to see through it, and that terrified him. After almost seventeen years of the people around him filling his head with words of hate and disgust about muggleborns, he honestly couldn't place her in that category. She was too _real_. Mudbloods were supposed to be like animals, infecting the magical lines and making them weak, or so he had been told all his life. But as much as he despised her patronising attitude, her obsession with schoolwork and her infuriating bossiness and uppity righteousness, he failed to see her as anything but a powerful witch.

He could pinpoint the exact moment his beliefs about her as a muggleborn fell flat. And it was when she had let her anger consume her enough to slap him across the face in third year. The raw energy and passion in her eyes, and the magic sizzling through her hair had sent a jolt of it through him, as if he could actually taste her magic on his tongue, and ever since then he had always felt a niggling doubt about putting her in the same category as other mudbloods.

But that didn't mean she had any right to snoop around and try to imply that he couldn't look after himself. He had a job to do. His parents were depending on him. And he was expected to bring honour back to the Malfoy name. So he leaned in closer to her with a growl and his darkest look.

"I'm going to say this once, Granger, so listen closely… stay the fuck away from me, or you'll be sorry."

"Is that really what you want?" she asked in a murmur, not afraid to meet his glare with her own intense stare. He couldn't tear his gaze away from those impossibly deep brown eyes as she blinked up at him, noticing for the first time that there were lighter flecks in them that seemed almost gold in colour in this light. He shuddered.

"What I _want_ ," he spat, "Is to pretend that you don't even exist."

He wasn't sure why he said it like that, but Hermione's intense look turned confused, and she furrowed her brows as she searched his face for answers. Her eyes widened a bit and flickered over him. Draco's heart pounded and his mouth went achingly dry. Fearing that he'd said something he shouldn't have, he loomed a little closer once more to scare her, then shoved away from the wall and strode down the hallway and out of sight. He walked quickly, his strides matching the rhythm of his thudding heart as he tried not to panic and just run. It was only when he was safely inside the Room of Requirement four floors above that he let out a stuttering breath and looked down at his hands. They were shaking. Feeling like a complete idiot, he banged his fist into the wall, enjoying the little burst of pain on his knuckles. Why did the stupid bookworm have to go and get under his skin like that? His body was still crawling all over from the intensity of their strange encounter…and her obvious concern. He cursed himself for almost slipping up at the end, hoping she hadn't realised the meaning behind his parting words. He shook his head and swore to himself that he would try his best to just avoid her from now on.

But for some reason he couldn't rid himself of the scent of apricots.

….

It wasn't until later that day in the common room, while she was watching Harry and Ron playing chess, but not really focusing on them, that she came across the answer to her question.

"Oh merlin," she whispered, raising a hand to her mouth, "of course."

"Huh?" Ron was staring at her like she'd sprouted antlers, and that was about as eloquent as he could get.

"Oh…um," she blushed and thought quickly, "I just realised I got a question wrong on my Ancient Runes quiz."

Ron rolled his eyes.

"So?"

Hermione glared at him. She knew it shouldn't matter because she had been lying about it, but she still wasn't happy with his reaction.

"So it's important to me."

"Well I guess you can't be perfect all the time."

Hermione's gaze softened. She supposed, in his own clumsy way that was quite sweet of Ron. But she couldn't help noticing the jealous eyes of Lavender Brown on her, so she just smiled gently and returned her stare to the fire crackling in the grate.

 _"What I want is to pretend you don't even exist."_

For a long time, mostly in their first and second years at Hogwarts, Malfoy had been quite happy to look down on her as if she were dirt beneath his feet. He would cringe if he came close to touching her. He never passed up an opportunity to publicly try to humiliate her and degrade her blood status. But now?

Just in the last year or so, she realised he had more often than not started to just avoid looking at her altogether. He had diverted his malicious teasing to Harry and Ron more, and she had been ignored. It was almost as if… he had realised he didn't want to acknowledge her as a muggleborn at all.

 _"What I want is to pretend you don't even exist."_

Because if she didn't exist, then he could continue believing what he'd been taught about her kind. Because maybe on some level she challenged the idea of dirty blood. Maybe her intelligence and her insight had made him feel uncomfortable about whatever task he was doing to aid Voldemort. It was easier to hate all muggleborns in general as his family expected if he tried to ignore the one mudblood who was consistently smarter and more powerful than him in every class. She knew he had always hated that she could best him in anything, but maybe it went deeper than that. Maybe it was genuinely dangerous to his view of the world.

She shifted in her seat as she contemplated that moment earlier in the day when he had practically pinned her to the wall and looked at her with such fury that she thought for sure he would abandon common sense and school rules and just hex her. But he didn't. Instead he walked away. Well, he practically fled from her.

Hermione released a deep breath.

That left her in a strange situation. She was pretty sure they hated each other's guts, and she was certain he was working for Voldemort somehow. But she also saw the signs of some kind of deeper struggle within him that suggested that just maybe he wasn't thrilled with his role. She could well imagine what Harry or Ron would say. He's an evil git, a Death Eater, and he deserves to rot.

But if Ron, for example, had grown up in a pureblood family that was like Malfoy's, wouldn't he also believe all that ridiculous nonsense about blood purity? Surely even someone as arrogant and spiteful as Malfoy deserved a chance to make up his own mind.

Her pondering soon turned to decision-making. There was no way she could push her luck with someone like him as she did today. He wasn't stable, and he would certainly respond poorly to an all out Gryffindor attack of compassion. But was there some kind of Slytherin way she could become more involved in his life? Maybe if she made him think just enough about what he was doing, he would…what?

She shook her head. Maybe she was being naïve. But he was only her age, and she was all too aware of how young they all were to be thrust into this war. Didn't everyone deserve a choice?

"Hermione?"

Her attention snapped up to Harry sitting closer to her and staring at her in confusion.

"Yes?"

"I just called your name three times!"

"Oh I'm sorry, I was thinking about our transfiguration essay."

Harry raised an eyebrow but nodded slowly.

"Uhuh…Um, Hermione, are you alright? You seem very far away lately."

"Do I?" she asked nervously.

"Well yeh…you attended an entire two hour long Quidditch game last week, and then asked us later who won!"

Hermione blushed.

"Come on, Harry, you know I lose focus a bit while watching..."

Harry chuckled.

"Yeh, _I_ definitely know. But Ron was pretty miffed about it."

Hermione snorted.

"Where is he anyway?" she asked, just realising that he was no longer with them. Obviously their chess game had ended without her noticing.

Harry squirmed and looked at his feet.

"Um…well…er…he's gone for a walk with Lavender."

Hermione raised her eyebrows in surprise. She knew Lavender was a total groupie for any Quidditch player, but she hadn't thought Ron was interested in her too.

"Huh…that's new."

Harry patted her on the shoulder.

"I'm sure it's just a passing thing, you know how Ron gets."

Hermione stared at Harry blankly for a while before she realized he was trying to reassure her, thinking her feelings would be hurt by Ron's interest in another girl. She thought about it for a moment, and while the idea of him with Lavender was certainly enough to make her sick, she wasn't sure whether she was truly hurt or just mildly disgusted by the visual images it created.

"Yes, I'm sure it is," she replied, forcing a smile to reassure Harry, "Well… I noticed Ginny heading to the library earlier," she murmured conspiratorially, "maybe while Ron is otherwise occupied you should go help her study for Defence."

Harry looked sheepish and ducked his head.

"I'm not-"

"Oh come on, Harry, you practically drool when she walks into the room. Just go!"

"But…are _you_ ok?"

" _GO!_ "

"Alright," he said with a laugh and bounded to his feet with a shaky breath of anxiety.

Hermione watched him dash out of the common room fondly. Once he was gone she sunk back into the couch, determined to make the most of this unexpected alone time to think long and hard about Draco Malfoy.

….

And she would certainly have been surprised to know that at that very moment, Draco was also thinking about her.

 _Princess fucking Granger,_ he thought with a growl as he slouched on his bed with a book, having escaped the goon-squad that were increasingly annoying these days by sneaking up to the dorm room.

He couldn't believe she had tried to…

Well, he wasn't sure what she had tried to do. That was the problem. Gryffindors were usually so blatantly ridiculous with their emotions. That's what made them so fun to rile up. But he honestly couldn't figure out what had motivated Granger to approach him and make comments on his appearance. She had commented on his weight loss and general pallor. That alone made him cross. He usually noticed people staring at him or spying on him. Even Snape, the master spy, had not been subtle enough in his observations. But he hadn't been aware of the scrutiny from one muggleborn Gryffindor. And damnit, she was right as usual. He had been so occupied by his task, not to mention his increasingly dark thoughts and memories this year that he had let himself slip a bit. It wasn't his fault that normally by the time he finally drew himself away from his own mental shit-storm he had completely lost his appetite. He usually just picked at the food these days, eating just enough so that he wouldn't faint or topple over in the wind.

He felt his fists clench at the sides of the book he was holding.

So she had been spying on him. It was funny how someone clingy like Pansy could lap up his every word and practically hang off him all bloody day and not notice a damn thing, whereas one overly annoying Gryffindor bookworm had figured it out in just a couple of weeks, and from a distance. So she had seen him deteriorating and decided to confront him.

What was she thinking?

If anyone from Slytherin whose parents had connections to the Dark Lord had overheard one of her strange comments in that hallway, there would have been hell to pay. Although, he thought wryly, it would have been worse if one of them had stumbled upon _him_ pressing Granger's soft body into the walls of the bloody castle. It certainly would have looked like a passionate rendezvous to any unknowing onlooker.

 _Wait…soft?_

Draco stuttered a bit, choking on his own breath as his shoulders clenched with shock. Yes, her body was soft, he admitted grudgingly. He was mature enough to acknowledge that kind of thing superficially at least. She certainly wasn't the buck toothed, bushy haired freak of their younger years. Everything about her was soft now. Her skin had lost its teenage roughness and the pockmarks and blush of adolescence, and was now smooth and creamy. Her teeth were straight, giving her a frankly quite stunning smile (he had his suspicions that magic was involved in that one) and her hair had become quite manageable. The frizzy bush had dropped more heavily as she grew it longer, down to the small of her back, and now fell in thick, dense curls that entwined her delicate features. The few strands that framed her face had brushed against him, and they had been silky and smooth. And most of all she had that perfectly curved lower lip that she was always biting into…

Draco sat bolt upright in bed.

 _Get a grip on yourself for fuck sake!_

There was no way he had just been thinking about Granger as attractive. Objectively he supposed she was good looking now, hell half the boys in Slytherin had made comments about sullying the precious princess' chastity, but she was still an uppity bitch pining after that ginger idiot.

An uppity bitch who smelled like apricots and fresh parchment, he reminded himself.

Draco felt his gut clench a bit sickly when he became aware of the slight heat tightening below his navel, roused by this train of thought about Granger.

 _Holy shit,_ he thought with a panicked start. This should not be physically possible!

 _Umbridge swimming in a gold bikini in the lake! Hagrid dancing the tango!_

He chanted the images to himself until he felt the problem go away completely. Then he rested his head back on his pillow and released the breath he'd been holding.

He had let his mind wander too far. He could only blame the lack of food for the dizzying thoughts, and cursed himself. She was right, he needed to eat. But as he rose to head towards the kitchens, he determinedly pushed all thoughts of her to the back of his mind, where he was determined she would stay. He had other, much more important things to occupy his thoughts this year, and he couldn't let anything else get in his way. Especially not _that._

….

 **Ok so I'm getting into the swing of things now. And there is enough groundwork to build from to get these two stubborn people going. Please leave lovely reviews!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: Back again, a bit under a week this time! And now it's time for Hermione to make some progress… As always, JKR is a fabulous weaver of stories.**

….

It wasn't until two weeks later that Hermione got an unexpected opportunity to look more closely at the puzzle that was Draco Malfoy. When he entered Arithmancy class and saw the only seat in the room available was next to hers he put his foulest sneer on and strode over. Vector had clearly arranged the desks for a pairs lesson, and he didn't look happy about it. He shoved his books down on the table-top and collapsed into the seat, dragging it as far away from her as he could in the small space. He, somewhat childishly, had his body angled away from her, even though this made it awkward for him to see the board. Hermione took a deep breath and released it. It wouldn't help her cause to get angry at him straight away. But it was a challenge. The infuriating little ferret just made her mad so easily. They both did their work for the lesson in petulant silence, hoping that they could just breeze through it without interacting at all. Hermione was painfully aware for most of that time how close they were sitting. She could practically feel the heat from his body in the stuffy classroom. He had a musky odour like expensive perfume or aftershave or something. And he kept pushing back his hair irritably and huffing his breath out a little too loudly. Once or twice, Hermione contemplated talking to him, just leaning over and whispering a question about the work. But she knew that he would be suspicious if she raised any problems with these particular equations. He would know very well that she was capable of completing them with her eyes closed. And she was determined to be subtler in her behaviour around him, so she just stayed quiet and ignored all his annoying little habits as he expressed his disgust. About five minutes before the end of the lesson, Vector called for a halt.

"Alright class, listening carefully please," she began, and although their bodies were tense it was second nature for Hermione and Malfoy to fix their gazes on the teacher, both being compulsive over-achievers. "Over the course of this week in your pairs you will be working on a little project. Together you will be solving a series of complex, shifting equations. As you solve each question, it will reveal a clue for the final riddle, and I will also be introducing variables as you go, so you have to think quickly and adapt. You will need to work _together_ ," her eyes darted sternly towards the two seething enemies seated side by side, as if to warn them, "Because if you do _not_ work as a team effectively, you will find this task impossible. It's quite advanced NEWT level work, but I think this class is capable of tackling something that would typically be ahead of them in the course. You will, however, need to dedicate homework time as well to this, as class will not be sufficient. I suggest today you arrange your schedules to complete it, as organisation is the key to success. I'm warning you now- not everyone in here will be able to successfully solve this task. Understood?"

After the class let out a chorus of groaning murmurs to show their agreement, Vector nodded brusquely. With a casual flick of her wand, a series of parchments appeared on each desk for the pairs.

"You may begin going over it now."

Hermione sighed and went to grab the top instruction sheet, just as Malfoy made a grab for it too.

"Give it to me, Granger. If you take it we might never hear from you again."

Hermione scowled but, reminding herself to stay calm, she relented and released the page into his grasp. He seemed surprised for a moment before he scoffed and turned his attention to the instructions as Hermione casually flipped through the first sheet of equations.

"Shit," Draco murmured under his breath, and Hermione could see why.

These equations were unlike any they'd come across before. They were extremely difficult and convoluted. There was no chance she'd finish it by herself within a single week. Which meant she really would have to find a way to co-operate with Draco Malfoy. Easier said than done. But it might just help her in achieving her other goal to find out more about him, so she nodded quietly to herself. She sat a bit straighter and reminded herself to be serene and keep her dignity. She was the brightest witch of her age.

"This is going to be…"

"Bloody impossible."

"I was going to say fun, actually."

Malfoy stared at her in disbelief for a moment.

"Are you fucking kidding me, Granger?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and grabbed the instruction sheet from him.

"Oh come on, Malfoy, we're not all that different you know, you and I. I bet somewhere deep down you think it'd be interesting to see if we can reach the results of a task like this one. See if we can beat our competition. Aren't you at least a little curious?"

Malfoy looked doubtful, but there was only a split second of something like understanding on his face before his arrogant mask came back in full force.

"You're a freak, Granger. I shouldn't even be here. I don't see how silly little problem solving games are supposed to make me any better at…"

Hermione looked at him directly, coldly as he trailed off.

"At what? Torturing muggleborns?"

Draco returned her stare with equal chill, and she couldn't help but shiver in response.

"Something like that…" he responded with a menacing tone to his voice.

Hermione grit her teeth and took a breath through her nose, falling silent for a moment so that she wouldn't ruin this.

"Well I refuse to fail this assignment just because you're a pretentious little bigot. So when are you free for us to meet up and do it?"

Malfoy turned away, uncomfortable looking at her any longer.

"Can't we just split it up and do half each?"

Hermione made a little growl of frustration, unable to contain her annoyance.

"Look at it, Malfoy!"

She shoved the parchment under his nose and he finally let his eyes sweep over some of the numbers and runes.

"Damnit," he swore softly.

"Exactly. Now tell me when you're available."

Malfoy huffed out a breath and ran a hand through his blond hair, messing it up from its usual neatly slicked style. Hermione thought it made him look a lot more vulnerable. Almost... sweet.

"Tuesday and Wednesday evening, from 8:00."

"Ok, I can make that work. Where do you want to meet?"

"The library, obviously."

"Ok, I'll see you at 8:00 Tuesday in our spot."

She knew it sounded strange to say _our_ spot, and Malfoy was clearly outraged at the term, as his eyes immediately shot back to hers with a look of disgust and almost fury, but she just tossed back her hair haughtily and ignored him.

"Whatever," he replied in a dull voice, clearly not wanting to get involved any more in arguments with her. Fortunately for them, Vector dismissed the class at that moment and Malfoy swept from the room so fast he didn't notice her satisfied little smirk.

….

Draco dragged his feet all the way to the library on Tuesday evening. He had only managed to spend half an hour next to his cabinet, and it had been a total waste of time. He had just stared at it, his brain consumed instead by his dread about spending an hour with Granger in the library.

In _their_ spot.

How dare she, even inadvertently, make this sound like some kind of special rendezvous? The very idea was laughable. And he was angry with the rational side of his brain that argued that it was a very large library with extensive seating, and the two of them did tend to claim that one alcove of only about five desks as theirs more often than not, whether separately or at the same time. There was something peaceful about that part of the library, burrowed away from the main thoroughfares. And seeing her with her curly head buried in textbooks always inspired him to push himself harder, so he kept going back there. But that didn't give her the right to call it _their spot,_ as if it was some kind of romantic secret between them.

Already feeling sullen and bitter, Draco entered the quiet library – upcoming Quidditch games had drawn everyone away from their books – and sat heavily in the seat next to the brains of the Golden Trio. He frowned at the top of her head as she continued to read whatever she was taking notes from. She didn't even acknowledge his presence. Prissy bitch.

"By all means, take your time, Granger," he drawled, leaning back arrogantly in his seat.

Hermione's eyes shot up and she met his gaze, her brown eyes wide and innocent.

"Oh I'm sorry, Malfoy. Sometimes I just get carried away with what I'm reading and I sort of block out…well, everything…"

She trailed off in embarrassment and a red flush spread to her cheeks as she dropped her gaze. Draco had never seen her blush like that before – she was usually so high and mighty she didn't often let her feathers get ruffled. Another reason why it was more fun to taunt Potter and Weasley. They always reacted so perfectly to his insults, whereas she just ignored them. He also couldn't help noticing that these last two years in particular she really didn't seem to care what people thought of her in general. Which was just as well, because most girls despised her and most boys were too intimidated to like her. She needed a thick skin. So it made him feel quite smug that she was so outwardly flustered in his presence now. He felt a savage pleasure that he could still make her react if he tried hard enough, or maybe just if they were alone together.

"Let's just get this over with okay?" he snapped, and enjoyed seeing her blush deepen and spread from her cheeks down her neck and into her shirt. He wondered briefly how far down it went.

"Alright. Well, the reason I was reading was because I've managed to gather some formulas that could help us find the initial sequence."

He raised an eyebrow at that. So she had been researching their assignment even before he arrived. She was far too prepared. Yet another thing that irritated him,

"Show me," he said, gritting his teeth.

She handed over the parchment of notes she had made, and he nodded brusquely, not wanting to say anything to indicate that he was actually impressed with her work. It was insufferably meticulous.

"Ok, well I assume you have some kind of plan. Merlin forbid every teacher's favourite little perfectionist comes unprepared to kiss arse."

Granger raised one brow elegantly and paused, before brushing her hair back over her shoulder and sitting straighter.

"I'm going to take that as a compliment, actually."

"I didn't intend for it to be one," he retorted angrily. Then she smiled at him in a challenging sort of way, and there was a mischievous sparkle of gold in her deep brown eyes. He cursed himself for noticing.

"I'll have to just accept an accidental one then. I'm not ashamed of being an organised person, or of being well-liked by the teachers I respect."

Then, before he could rebuff her statement, she flipped open another big book and practically shoved it under his nose.

"Now, look at this. We can use this one to work out the first sequence."

Draco huffed in frustration. She was so bossy. It was no surprise that Potter and Weasley managed to scrape through all their subjects by the skin of their teeth. She practically dragged them through.

"Just give me the damn sheet, Granger. I'll do the first one myself."

"Fine, suit yourself."

"I will."

They both huffed softly and were silent for a while as they puzzled out the equations on each of their sections. It took Draco a few moments to concentrate fully, as he was slightly distracted from that maddening smell of apricots invading his nostrils. He shifted away from her slightly in his seat to avoid it, focusing intently on the sheet.

"I've got this one!" she finally broke the silence after a while with a triumphant grin.

"Me too," he agreed, putting down his quill and flexing his sore hand.

Granger looked at him apprehensively.

"Swap?" she suggested.

He nodded curtly without a word and they exchanged parchments. Looking down at her neat and pedantic working out, he couldn't help but be impressed as he followed her lettering to the conclusion. She was definitely correct. He started to grind his teeth and hoped with a curious fluttering in his chest that she would find his correct as well. He couldn't stand to be beaten by her right now.

"It's spot on!" She announced with a pretty smile as she passed the page back to him. He didn't say a word, but handed hers back as well with a grunt of acknowledgement. Her infuriating smile widened and he couldn't help himself staring at her for a moment.

"Next one?" she suggested innocently.

Still refusing to talk freely to the witch, he grabbed the next two and they repeated the process. A part of him was incredibly grateful he was paired up with someone so smart. Although the work was extremely difficult, they soared through it, helped by their combined intelligence. They only exchanged brief words with each other to keep the assignment on track or to double check answers. Otherwise they managed to fall into what he could only describe as a comfortable silence. Draco let his eyes flicker up to watch her a few times as they did. She was in her element. As much as he teased her in public, he admitted very reluctantly to himself now that there was something admirable about that fierce concentration she had while studying. Her dark brown eyes were focused with such intensity on the page in front of her that he was surprised it didn't catch fire. And her lip was red and swollen from gnawing on it with her ferocious little teeth. It filled him with a strong desire to impress her, as if her approval would really mean something. Because anyone who met her high standards was doing something right. It wasn't long before they had completed a nice little stack of questions

"Alright, I guess we're done for now until Professor Vector gives us the next variable," she sighed after an hour of working. It was getting closer to curfew, and Draco was exhausted. He hadn't slept well the previous night.

He stretched his back and felt a soft crack in his spine as he ran his hands over his face. Draco felt her eyes on him and he returned her gaze. She looked worried, pitying even as her stare took in the rings under his eyes, and the stiffness in his posture. He swallowed, mortified. He didn't want her seeing a moment of weakness like this. Not when it seemed possible that she was already watching him like a hawk. Granger seemed to debate with herself for a few moments, before finally she spoke in a whisper only just loud enough for him to hear.

"You should go get some sleep."

Draco's heart thudded and he felt his anger escalate all too quickly.

"I thought I told you to mind your own business, Granger," he spat.

She blinked once at his harsh tone, but otherwise held his gaze. Eventually she smiled, an almost secret, conspiratorial smile. Draco frowned as he watched her lean forwards slightly across the desk between them, wondering why she was quirking her lip up in that secretive way. Part of him just wanted to run now that they were finished their work for the night, but he didn't want to look like a coward, or let her know she was getting to him. So he just sat there and watched her smirking at him smugly.

"You don't scare me, you know," she murmured lightly. Draco snorted, his knuckles going white.

"I'm not trying to scare you, I'm trying to ignore you."

Hermione's smile only widened, and that gold glimmer had returned to lighten the shade of brown of her irises.

"And how are you going with that?"

Draco looked at her with suspicion, trying to work her out.

"Not as well as I'd like. What are you playing at, Granger?

She shook her head innocently, eyes wide. He didn't trust her for a second.

"I'm just worried about my Arithmancy assignment. I wouldn't want your stubbornness to get in the way of my grades, now, would I?"

She said it with such a serious, disingenuous voice that Draco almost laughed along with the joke she was surely making at his expense. But his instincts told him that to play along with her teasing would be dangerous.

"Just leave me alone. Once this task is completed I don't want to hear your annoying stuck-up voice or see your bushy head again, understand?"

"Would that be easier for you to cope?" she retorted with a knowing glare, "To pretend I don't exist?"

He met her stare with wide, panicked eyes. Of course he had worried that after he pushed her against the wall last week that she would understand the hidden meaning of his words. He cursed her for being too smart for her own good. She was bound to see through his stupid, impulsive words. Granger knew now, thanks to his error, that he really did struggle to see her as beneath him. She had probably figured out that she scared him; because she challenged every ideal he had been taught as a young pureblood boy. He could tell from her piercing look now that she could plainly see the guilty set of his shoulders and the way he couldn't quite hold her gaze. Not knowing what to say, he stayed frustratingly silent. His mind raced, yet he couldn't think of any insult to hurl at her, and knew that saying the word _mudblood_ to her now wouldn't get him out of trouble. Not that he even really wanted to say it.

Eventually she just nodded her head knowingly and hoisted her bag onto her shoulder. Then with one last intense look she turned and left the library. Over her shoulder she left him with some parting words,

"I'll see you same time tomorrow."

Draco sank back into his seat.

 _Well…fuck._

 _…._

Hermione knew she may have crossed some unspoken line, and that it was all too likely that Malfoy just wouldn't turn up at the library on Wednesday. He had already made it clear that he didn't feel comfortable working with her, and that he was frightened of the two of them interacting any more closely.

Because beneath the silent glares and scornful words he had said last night, he had looked… conflicted. Almost as if he was thinking too hard about how he should act around her. That in itself showed her that he had doubts. And while they were working she had caught him watching her with hooded silver-blue eyes. She wasn't sure if he was feeling wary or just curious, but his attention had made her flush and experience a twinge of self-consciousness.

The next day he sat quietly during meals in the Great Hall, barely eating but just pushing the food around his plate. He had withdrawn a lot from his friends these past couple of months. Even when they tried to engage him in conversation, he seemed to just dismiss them, as if it were just another burden. Hermione's mind was ticking over with how to help him, how to earn his trust. Perhaps if she worked out the puzzle that was Draco Malfoy she could actually _do_ something, instead of just sitting around waiting for a war to begin that was out of their control.

Eventually she settled on a fairly mild first step that he may not react too badly to. She was sitting waiting in the library, working on the Arithmancy project and hoping he would turn up. It was ten minutes past the time he was expected, and she had started to think she had pushed him too far. But then a huffing breath ruffled the top of her head and she saw him slump into the same chair, a muscle in his jaw clenching angrily.

"Let's just do this."

"Ok, here you go-" she said promptly, passing him a series of numbers, while she tackled a different set. They worked in silence for ten minutes until a suitable amount of time had passed. He seemed determined to just keep a wall up between them and do the work without interacting at all. With a secret smile to herself, Hermione quietly removed the thermos from her bag and carefully unscrewed the lid. She started to sip at it and let out a soft moan of approval as she tasted the rich, warming liquid inside. Malfoy's head shot up at the sound and he stared at her. The soft sounds of enjoyment coming from her mouth had obviously shocked him, because he looked a bit stunned and his mouth was hanging open. Then he seemed to collect himself.

"Don't tell me Granger, you've finally removed that stick from your ass."

"Hmm?" she hummed in response, still sipping on the drink.

"Smuggling drinks into the library? That's against the rules."

Hermione smiled with mischief.

"It's worth it. The house elves made it for me specially."

Malfoy frowned and stared at the strange flask she was holding. She could see him trying to figure out which spell she had used to hold in the warmth. He clearly had no experience with muggle homewares.

"What the bloody hell is it? Firewhiskey?"

Her smile widened as she snorted and shook her head. Then she bit her lip a bit nervously before answering.

"It's…hot chocolate."

He scoffed.

"Seriously? Are you five years old, Granger?"

She chuckled and took another sip.

"Nope. It's made with medicinal chocolate. Melted and brewed with a pinch of cinnamon and cream."

Draco was intrigued. He had never heard of hot chocolate being made with medicinal chocolate before. And the smell was divine. It even finally managed to drown out the scent of her bloody shampoo, or whatever it was that smelled of apricots. Not to mention the look of what could only be described as pleasure on her face as she sipped was intriguing.

"Huh. Whatever," he shrugged casually, trying to appear nonchalant, even as his stomach rumbled covetously. They fell silent again and continued working, but Hermione couldn't help noticing the furtive glances he kept throwing her way, and how he licked his lips and swallowed every now and then. She knew he was interested. The bait had worked. When enough time had passed, she made sure to keep her eyes studiously on her books while she poured a decent amount into the thermos cap. It was designed to be a detachable mug. She carefully, slowly, slid it towards him across the small space of table between them. From the corner of her eye she saw him frown at it, then his angry, suspicious eyes raised towards her, as if checking for a trap.

"It's not poisoned…" she murmured with a shrug, still focusing on her work and trying not to make a big deal of it. Still, he left it there for about five more minutes, and she was glad she had cast a new stasis charm on it to keep it warm. But sure enough, the delicious smell alone proved too much temptation, especially because he probably hadn't been eating enough lately. Malfoy carefully grabbed the cup, sniffed it, and took a tentative sip. While outwardly, Hermione was focused entirely on her work, she let her gaze flicker up to him, hidden behind her curls.

He had closed his eyes for a moment, savouring the taste. She could well imagine how much he was enjoying the smooth, rich chocolate with just that hint of spicy cinnamon. But more than that, she could see how it made warmth seep through him from top to bottom. Even his chilled fingertips would thaw as the sensation spread. At first he appeared to want to savour the sweet liquid, taking only tentative sips, but it wasn't long until he'd drained the entire cup and licked the remaining drops from his lips.

Hermione held back a smug smile, simply passing him the sheet she had completed. He looked a bit guilty, and shuffled the papers around that he had been working on.

"I think this riddle is starting to make more and more sense."

Malfoy nodded, and Hermione bit back another smile that he was no longer snapping at her every two seconds. Even though he had settled into a moody silence, it was more peaceful than his defensive insults.

"Yes…here, how does this look?"

She ran her eyes along the words down the bottom of the sheet that Malfoy had written in Latin and it only took her a few quick moments to see that he had solved this piece of the puzzle.

"That's…brilliant!" she exclaimed, "You've got it!"

And for a single moment, Malfoy's guard was dropped and he looked genuinely pleased with himself. Not the usual arrogant mask, but actually proud that he had achieved something difficult. And for once he accepted her smile without suspicion.

"If we don't get a bloody Outstanding for this assignment I'm going to hex that woman!"

Hermione giggled, and he couldn't help but think that it was a rather pretty sound, not like the irritating high pitch squeals of other girls he hung around with. Then he froze and shook his head to clear it. That damn chocolate, and the pride in his success must have temporarily addled his brains. He needed to rescue this situation.

"At least I won't have to waste much more time with you, Granger. I'm surprised I didn't catch something already."

Hermione sighed. It had been going so well.

"Ok, Malfoy. Go for it. Say what you need to say to make you feel better!"

He just glared at her and started to pack up. When he was almost finished and she was still just sitting there staring at him, with her arms folded in front of her, he snapped.

"Look, what do you want from me, Granger? Coz you're really starting to piss me off."

Hermione looked at him calmly from her seat. She considered just throwing off the question or making a snappy comeback, but in the end she settled on honesty.

"I want to help you."

Malfoy laughed coldly.

"You want to _help_ me please the Dark Lord?" he asked sarcastically.

Hermione stared at him directly, her heart thudding. There was a sad kind of triumph in knowing she'd been right all this time, but she was also savagely pleased that her suspicions had been confirmed by his little slip up. He looked so mad with himself and with her that he probably hadn't even registered that he had basically confessed to working for Voldemort.

"No. I want to help _you,_ " she retorted.

"It's the same thing."

"I don't think it is."

Malfoy looked at her in disbelief. He was probably wondering how she could sit there so calmly and say this to him. He had been spiteful and cruel to her for six years and he was working for the dark wizard who wanted to kill her kind. She figured he thought she needed to work on her sense of self-preservation. His eyes darted around their little concealed area in the library. He looked panicked and shaky, like he wanted to run. Malfoy licked his lips nervously and leaned over her.

"Even if I needed or wanted help, I would never lower myself to accepting it from…a…a-"

"Yes, go on, call me a mudblood if it helps you convince yourself you're better than me," she taunted, her own anger rising as she stood and faced him. She couldn't help it. Despite all her determination to stay calm, he just got under her skin. She also noted with a smug sense of victory that he hadn't been able to say _that_ word again.

"What would make me feel better would be for you to fuck off and leave me the hell alone."

"So you can just continue to be one of Voldemort's brainless pawns?" she asked a bit crudely, not jumping around the issue. She was surprised at her own daring, but didn't back down. Hermione watched him flinch and his body jerk forwards as his left arm twitched violently. He strode the two steps towards her and clamped his hand over her mouth, pressing her back into the wall of the alcove. It was eerily similar to the last time he had pressed her into a wall. And he was fuming.

"Don't say that name!"

She couldn't respond even if she wanted to, his palm was pressed over her lips quite forcefully. So she just nodded her head slightly and relaxed under his grip to show she meant no harm. It was a bit like taming a wild beast. He was staring at her with wide eyes, his grip on her shoulders hard and bruising. It took him a while to register that she was calm and at his mercy. He felt the tension leave her, and it eased him too. Hermione saw him blink a few times and take a deep breath to control himself. She saw the mask come back over his face – he was a bloody good actor – and he eventually managed a small smirk.

"Ok, Granger. I'll admit you've made me curious. I never thought you'd have the balls to say anything to my face. But let me assure you, your _pity_ is not needed. I don't need pity. I'm proud to serve him and to bring honour to my parents."

She reached up with one steady hand, moving slowly so as not to scare him, and grasped his wrist, lowering his hand slightly away from her mouth.

"You took the dark mark."

It wasn't a question, it was a statement. His left arm twitched again noticeably against her, and before he could spit out a threat or even a hex she spoke again, with urgency, "I won't tell anyone, if that's what you're worried about. I just want to help you."

He rolled his eyes at her repeated sentiment.

"Why? You and I have hated each other for six years. Why would you want to help me?"

She could tell he was desperate to know her answer, to know that that she wasn't just playing some sick joke on him. His eyes were pleading and wide, and had lost that edge of animosity. They pierced hers urgently and made her shiver. She paused and considered his question a bit before she spoke.

"I've never hated you. You've been horrible, and rude, and spiteful and cowardly," he winced at that, and she pushed her advantage, "Yes, cowardly! But you've never really had much of a choice. I want to give you a choice."

"But _why?_ "

She shook her head then and looked at him with equally wide eyes. There was no malice or trickery in her gaze.

"I don't know," she finally confessed, and she felt his grip on her loosen a little.

For some reason her answer just confused him more. His lips pursed into a frown and his brow came down together in a pained scowl, as if he was thinking hard. Maybe he had hoped that she would have some intelligent logic behind it all and that she knew exactly what she was doing. But she was just as lost as he was. He was still leaning in towards her, pressing her against the wall, but she just waited for his response. She felt his shoulders sag and his hands brace themselves on the wall on either side of her as his face crumpled in disappointment.

"This ends now, Granger," he whispered, his breath tickling her cheek and brushing over her ear. She winced at how forlorn he sounded. "You need to stop this or we'll both be in danger."

She continued to stare intently at him.

"I'm not afraid."

He looked down at her and she felt him shudder at their close proximity. She could smell the sweet chocolate with a hint of cinnamon on his breath. He might hate Gryffindor stupidity, but surely even he could not deny that she was brave. Maybe she could see that even a small part of him, deep down, looked pleased that she cared about him, that she was offering whatever support she could, even if he felt he couldn't accept it. She knew that she had just taken another chink out of the armour built around him from birth. In the face of her wide-eyed honesty and concern, she saw a slither of need build inside him. It was childish and dangerous, but for some insane reason he couldn't quite fathom, he suddenly _wanted_ her to care about him. But there was that other part of him, the part that was plagued by nightmares, as she had seen right here in this very spot. The part of him that was terrified. He angled his head to the side to peer at her, looking a bit guilty or at least very uncertain of himself.

"You should be," he muttered, his gaze locked on hers, and with one last push he grabbed his bag and raced out of the library without looking back or letting her have the last word.

….

 **And that's the end of another confrontation. I think we're slowly building some kind of understanding between them. Please leave reviews!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: I am so appreciative of all my regular reviewers – you know who you are – who always have something nice to say at the end of a chapter. You guys make me very happy. As always, JKR is stupendous!**

 **...**

"Mione!"

"Hermione! Wait up!"

She skidded to a stop and waited for her two best friends to meet her outside the common room. It was just after their last class on Thursday afternoon and she was so tired she felt like she was about to drop. She had stayed up very late the night before pondering all the things Malfoy had said to her, finally getting a better picture of who he really was. She was definitely making progress. She hadn't really been surprised when the blond Slytherin had all but ignored her today. Or at least, he had tried to. She had caught him casting furtive glances her way throughout the day, and he had been particularly jumpy in Defence when they had been standing close together while practicing non-verbal spells.

She tapped her foot impatiently as the two boys reached her, panting, and Ron threw his arm around her shoulder. She coughed a bit on the smell of sweat and dirt from their quidditch practice as they herded her into the common room and kicked a couple of second years away from their favourite couch. Hermione sighed, wondering what emergency they were about to pile on her already heavy shoulders now. Going by the looks of solemn concern on their faces it might be bad.

"Are you okay?" Ron asked in a deep, serious voice. Hermione frowned.

"What are you talking about?"

Harry took her hand softly and looked into her eyes. She swallowed; he looked like he was afraid she was going to up and die on him.

"We heard about Malfoy."

Hermione felt her heart stop and she froze for a split second. How could they possibly know about their confrontations? Did they also know that he had a dark mark and that she'd offered him help? How was that possible? Keeping her voice steady she put on a calm façade as she replied,

"What about him?"

Ron sighed as if about to reveal something incredibly dramatic.

"Angelina told us she saw you and him sitting together in the library. Was he bothering you? Did he threaten you?"

Hermione stared at them for a moment in disbelief. Then she couldn't help bursting into laughter at their solemn faces. They were worried because she was doing schoolwork with him. That was just bizarre.

Ron turned to Harry.

"Alright, I'm taking her to the Hospital wing-"

"Merlin's beard, Ron! I'm not crazy – you are!"

Harry gripped her hand tighter.

"So what was it about then?"

She sighed and rolled her eyes.

"Professor Sinistra paired us up for an assignment. We're the only two students in the class who aren't from Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw! And no, it wasn't the sort of task you can manage apart. So we arranged a time, did the work, and went our separate ways."

Ron's mouth was wide open, and Harry just looked suspicious.

"He didn't hurt you?"

Hermione groaned and gave him a little shove.

"Really Harry? What did you think? That he'd curse me in the middle of the library right under the nose of Madam Pince over a bit of homework? He's not completely stupid."

"Are you defending the ferret again?" Ron asked angrily.

Hermione sighed and rubbed her fingers over her brow.

"Not exactly, but if you're suggesting he's completely lost his mind and would risk expulsion to hurt me in a public area of the school…then I suppose I am."

Ron made a scoffing sound.

"I don't believe you, Hermione! How can you be so blasé about this?"

"Because it's ridiculous!"

Harry frowned and looked at her intently.

"He's a Death Eater."

"Harry-"

"No, Mione, I just _know_ that he is! I still think he's the one who cursed Katie Bell."

"I'm sure he was just-"

"You need to be more careful."

Hermione stood quickly, and the boys looked at her in surprise.

"I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself, Harry Potter. And I've had enough of this talk about Malfoy being a death eater. I'm going to bed."

Before either of the boys could make another comment, she was striding away. But not before she heard Ron's voice saying,

"Do you think she's been imperiused?"

And she slammed the dormitory door behind her.

….

"That bloody woman!" Draco growled as he slammed his textbook onto the table and opened up to the right page. He saw Granger just smile and sit next to him, organising herself a lot more calmly.

"She did warn us this would happen…" she murmured, arranging her quills in a ridiculously neat row on the desk in front of her.

"Yeh well, I didn't think by variables she meant the entire first part of the task would have to be redone."

Granger's smile widened. It irritated him that she felt so comfortable in his presence. She didn't look at all flustered or angry about them having to spend even more time together. Not like him. He was fuming. He could barely stop his teeth from grinding together as he tried not to let himself be distracted by her. He hated how he seemed to be unable to stop himself from peering up at her every few seconds like he had the last time they were here in the library together. If anything, she was completely unruffled by the extra work. Her face was relaxed in a pose of concentration, and her hair was piled haphazardly up in a bun on top of her head with a muggle pencil sticking through it as if she just didn't care about arranging it properly. It was actually endearing the way it flopped over her forehead and ears in twisting strands. He followed one with his eyes as it swayed gently, brushing against her cheek.

Draco shook his head and glared down at the page of answers he had already written out so neatly. With a sigh, he started to scratch over them with his correcting quill, adding in the new numbers Vector had given them. While he worked he couldn't help himself from cursing the infuriating professor under his breath.

"Stupid harridan…irritating bitch…"

"Your whining isn't exactly helping me concentrate..." Granger muttered out of the corner of her mouth, a little smirk on her lips.

"I thought you could block out everything," he retorted petulantly.

She snorted and shook her head.

"Well you have a spectacular talent for breaking down my focus where so many others fail."

"I'm flattered," he sneered, feeling a little proud that he could obviously still get to her. He chose not to think about the fact that they were both pretending as though nothing had happened last time. They were carrying on as if she had never confronted him about his duty for Voldemort and he had never pressed her into the wall and choked down the desire to beg for her help. He remembered with a twinge of embarrassment how the plea had been forming on his lips. She had spoken with such quiet confidence, but he had managed to swallow down the words before they escaped in a desperate whisper. He couldn't ask her for help. No one could help him.

"This is ridiculous," Granger suddenly groaned, slamming down her piece of paper onto the desk. Her lips were pursed and she was furrowing her brow darkly.

"What's wrong?" he asked, immediately scolding himself for sounding so damn polite.

"I changed all the codes that Vector gave us and went through the whole stupid thing again, and reached the same conclusion."

Draco paused and raised his eyes to her in disbelief.

"Are you kidding me?"

She sighed and shook her head.

"Nope. Twice as much work, same answer."

"Maybe you got it wrong…" Draco trailed off when she lifted her gaze to glare at him in mock anger, He put his hands up in a defensive gesture, "…okay, alright. You probably didn't get it wrong. It would be a first."

"What about yours?"

"Let me just finish it-"

Draco scanned his eyes down the page, doing the calculations quickly in his head. The sequence went round and round in circles and wound up with the exact same answer as before.

"Bloody hell," he growled, leaning back in defeat and running his fingers through his hair, not caring how much he messed it up.

"I can't believe she sent us on a wild goose chase!"

"A _what?_ " he exclaimed with a short laugh, picturing someone racing around a garden scrabbling to round up a pair of geese. For some reason in his mind the person looked a bit like that oaf Hagrid.

"Oh, it's a muggle saying. It means to go on a pointless or futile pursuit for something."

Draco nodded, chuckling a bit at the strange saying.

"Right. You mean she made us stir the empty cauldron."

"Stir the empty cauldron? Huh…that's interesting."

"Uh yeh. What exactly do geese have to do with anything? Do muggles often own geese?" he asked in a teasing voice. Hermione little out a little snort of laughter.

"No they don't."

"So why say it?"

"Umm…I have no idea. Muggle phrases can be pretty weird sometimes."

Granger giggled again, and the mood was infectious. He couldn't help joining in. At that moment, though, their peace was interrupted by the heavy footfalls of someone entering the herbology section near their little alcove. Whoever it was they were walking with hard, clumsy steps and reeked of cheap cologne. Immediately Draco let his smile drop from his face. He forced a scowl onto his features and lowered his head to finish writing down the working-out on his sheet. It simply wouldn't do to let someone else see them here together having any kind of camaraderie. He might be going insane for acting so friendly around her – and he _was_ seriously questioning his sanity on a daily basis for enjoying her company – but letting anyone else see into their little bubble would be suicide. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Granger do the same and he was pleased to know that she understood the risks as well as he did.

The mystery intruder rounded the corner and Draco didn't hide the roll of his eyes when he saw that absolute imbecile Cormac McLaggen invade the alcove like he owned the damn place. Draco tended to despise most Gryffindors just on principle, but this maggot really did spark a peculiarly sharp brand of spite in him. There was nothing he hated more than an arrogant fool. At least _he_ had the decency to actually own a brain. He was well within his rights to be proud and boastful, because he had the goods to back it up. McLaggen was a moron, but acted like a prince.

He felt his skin crawl as the stupid ponce noticed Granger sitting there working studiously on their notes for Arithmancy. He put on his most simpering smile, which Draco wanted to punch right off his face, and strode over. It didn't take a genius to figure out that his ugly leering grin was directed at the Gryffindor girl sitting quietly next to him.

"Hey, Granger," he drawled in a low voice, stepping right up to their table and leaning on the side with his arms folded. His eyes flickered briefly over towards Draco but he just blinked in surprise a bit and ignored him, "I've been looking everywhere for you. What are you doing… _here_?" he looked around the towering shelves of books concealing them with an unmistakable air of disdain.

"I'm working on a project for arithmancy, Cormac," she said through a slightly clenched jaw, and Draco couldn't stop himself from smirking in amusement at her obvious discomfort. He leaned back in his seat ready to enjoy the show.

"With…him?"

"Obviously."

Cormac bristled a bit at her coldness, but then seemed to rally himself and shake it off, leaning closer with a rakish grin.

"I was wondering what time we should meet on Saturday night. I was thinking 7:30 in the common room."

Draco's mouth almost dropped open at the question. He couldn't believe it. There was simply no way that Hermione Granger would ever go on an actual date with this idiot. He waited eagerly for her to flatly refuse him and crush the boy's hopes. Instead she sighed in resignation and lifted her narrowed eyes from her work finally to look at him.

"It starts at seven," she countered with a small frown on her lips.

"Yes, but one simply doesn't arrive _on time_ to these things. I like to be fashionably late."

"Seriously?"

"Let's make an entrance, impress the crowd. That's my style, you know."

"Fine. Whatever," she snapped, waving her hand. She seemed impatient to be rid of him. Draco watched the interaction in stunned silence. Cormac grabbed her hand from where it lay near the table, clenched in frustration and smattered with ink stains. The boy raised it to his lips and placed a gallant kiss on her knuckles, his mouth making a loud smacking sound as he grinned at her like a buffoon. He missed the obvious disgust on Granger's face, or the way she flinched slightly when he touched her. But Draco didn't miss it.

"I'm… _very_ eager to get to know you better, Granger."

"Yeh," she agreed vaguely, trying to look anywhere but at her poor violated hand, "It should be fun."

"Until then," he raised himself off the desk and started backing away with that damn grin spreading his cheeks so wide they might split, "Au revoir."

Draco wasn't sure what he wanted to do more; to vomit or laugh. But damn if that little scene hadn't just made his day.

There was a sort of uncomfortable silence that descended on their little alcove after McLaggen left, in which Granger just buried her head into her work. She seemed to be trying desperately to fight off the dark red blush that threatened to spread over her cheeks. Her shoulders were still very tense and her lips stuck out in a bit of a pouty scowl that made her look like a child who had stepped on a cockroach. But it wasn't until he saw her discretely wipe her offended hand on her shirt that Draco really lost it.

The laughter bubbled in him out of nowhere, and he felt his face stretch into a delighted grin. He simply couldn't hold it in any longer. He burst into chuckles, slapping down his quill and leaning back in his chair as he laughed. Granger glared at him for a few moments, looking mortified, but this just made him laugh harder. He saw her frown tighten a little and could see from the twitch of her lip that revealed she was trying not to smile as well.

"Stop it, Malfoy!"

"Oh please, _please_ tell me I didn't just dream that!"

"I don't see what's so funny."

He widened his eyes at her and snorted.

"Oh come on. _McLaggen_? You're going on a date with McLaggen?"

"Yes."

"In Merlin's name, _why?_ "

"He's actually…um…very…fit...?" she was floundering for a way to describe the useless boy, and it only made him laugh again. This time she definitely let out a tiny smile before she masked it with a scowl.

"Yes he's fit, I suppose," he agreed solemnly, "And thick as a tree trunk, and immature, and narcissistic, and totally lacking in class or self-awareness."

"Alright, he's not ideal. But I needed to take _someone_ to Slughorn's stupid Christmas party."

Draco shook his head in bemusement.

"You can do a lot better than McLaggen. A flobberworm would make a better date than him."

Granger sat in silence thinking deeply for a moment. Then after a while he saw her frown to herself and raise her eyes to meet his.

"I can do better?"

"What?"

"You said that I can do better than him."

Draco raised one of his eyebrows questioningly, wondering where she was going with this.

"So?"

" _So_ …Cormac is pureblood."

He squirmed in his seat a little, starting to figure out what she was trying to hint at. He should have been more mindful of his words, but had been swept up in a moment of unguarded glee. The smile dropped from his face now as he took in her curious, almost pondering expression.

"Right…well, um-"

" _I'm_ muggleborn, and _he's_ pureblood. And you think I'm too good for him."

Draco thought about what she was saying for a second. Of course she would read too much into his words. And he hated that she was right. He frowned and tried to shrug off her statement.

"It's got nothing to do with blood. It's purely about personality."

Granger stared at him intently for a few moments, her brown eyes catching his breath and not releasing him. He felt himself start to flush a bit at the deep well of emotion in her eyes.

"Exactly," she said at last, and he felt his mouth go dry. There was nothing really he could say to that, or he might just get himself into more trouble. So he just stayed quiet, clenching his jaw and letting his eyes drop back down to his work. He grew uncomfortable from her piercing gaze and wriggled a bit in his seat.

"You're reading too much into it, Granger. McLaggen is slime." He was hoping she would drop it, but she just cocked her head to the side curiously.

"And I'm mud, right? Perfect match, wouldn't you say?"

He growled a little, softly, unintentionally. He knew what she was trying to say. She was proving to him that she knew he didn't believe in his own ideals anymore. Draco couldn't help but picture the kind of couple that Granger and McLaggen would make, since they were both technically supposed to mean nothing to him. She was a muggleborn and he was a simpleton. But he couldn't even begin to imagine it. She really _was_ too good for him. And she knew it too, that's why she was taunting him.

"Not everything is black and white," he grumbled at last.

"I know," she said a bit smugly, making him frown at her in annoyance, "I just wanted to make sure _you_ knew that."

"Bloody Gryffindor," he grumbled, tyring not to smirk a little in appreciation of her trap. She had a way of cleverly using his words against him that was both infuriating and impressive. He sook his head and bent over to concentrate on his work again. They were silent for a little while longer as they completed a sheet each, before Draco raised his eyes to watch her again. He wasn't sure what it was about her than intrigued him so, but he couldn't stop glancing her way. It had become a terrible habit. He had found himself staring at her in the Great Hall when they were eating meals; his eyes would pierce her from across the room, trying to figure her out, juts like he knew she was trying to figure him out. In class he sometimes just glared at the back of her head, as if he could make her turn around with the weight of one heated look. Maybe she really had infected him, and this was a symptom of his madness. He just wanted to know why she cared. What had made this girl, who he had treated so cruelly for so many years, suddenly give a damn about him? The thought of this fiercely intelligent girl caring about him stirred something inside him, but he simply couldn't put a name to it.

"I think we're done," she said with a sigh as she put down her quill and cracked her knuckles. Her face was scrunched up in a tired expression and she even gave a cute little yawn. He matched her posture and smirked at her.

"Thank Merlin," he said wryly, "I was worried you'd pull out the hot chocolate next."

Granger gave a sly little chuckle, having the decency to look a bit shamefaced.

"How did you know?"

"Your bleeding heart is quite predictable. You seem determined to win me over."

"It's easier than I thought it would be," she teased with a smile.

"I'll have to make it harder then," he retorted, scooping up his belongings and stuffing them into his bag.

"I would expect no less. I like a challenge," she quipped bossily, copying his movements as she filled up her already overflowing satchel. The two of them organised themselves silently, occasionally looking up and blushing when their eyes met. Draco studied her from under his lashes. She seemed pleased. Maybe she had realised just how much she had wormed her way into his thoughts this week working together. He had never collaborated so effectively on a task with someone before in his life, and he suspected neither had she. It had thawed his icy exterior more than he was comfortable with. As he turned to leave their spot in the library he gave her a little smirk over his shoulder, which turned out to be more of a sneer.

"Enjoy your date," he said, earning a glare from her as he chuckled and left. It turned out that riling Granger up for fun was a lot more rewarding than when he had done it to be cruel.

 _So she succeeded in getting under my skin after all,_ he thought.

Fifty points to Gryffindor…

….

It was a strange time for someone to be standing alone on the astronomy tower as the snow began to fall, but that was where Draco found himself that weekend. He was frowning down at the letter that had arrived earlier that day during breakfast. It was from his mother, and he could tell from reading between the lines she was worried about him, even though the contents themselves sounded quite banal. She was scared. His mother had never been the sort of person to show much distress or compassion. She had a severe face and an arrogant and solemn personality that didn't inspire a lot of warmth, but Draco always knew his mother cared deeply about him. A simple touch of his cheek, stroking of his hair or word of praise could be so meaningful from her.

She was clearly not the same person who had been so in love with Lucius all those years ago. Draco knew if his father hadn't been imprisoned, he would have been encouraging his son to take up his mission with zeal and do his sacred duty to the Dark Lord. But his mother didn't really care about any of that. She was certainly a pureblood snob through and through, but she didn't like the Dark Lord or his mad agenda. It was too violent for her, too bleak. She liked a different kind of order and class. She was an aristocrat.

It tugged at his heartstrings knowing she was worried about him. This was the only reason why he was doing it. For _her._ To protect her.

 _The only reason?_

Malfoy leaned against the railing of the astronomy tower and took a deep breath of the cool wind that was whipping around him. He was finally able to admit it to himself. While outwardly he seemed like the ideal little Death Eater, on the inside he was tormented. Maybe Granger was right; he really _was_ a coward. Because all he wanted to do was flee; to run away and hide and not have anything to do with this war or the death and destruction it wreaked daily.

Maybe it really was Hermione Granger who had finally tipped him over the edge. Before she entered his awareness this year he had been reluctant but still determined to do things right. But she continued to make him question everything he did or believed in. It wasn't even her direct challenges that he found confronting. It was all the little things. Like the weight of her personality, the fiercely intelligent look in her eyes when she was working. Their gazes meeting over breakfast in the Great Hall briefly each day. Every morning without fail now she would catch his eye and flick them pointedly down towards his food, encouraging him to eat. Even from a distance she was incredibly bossy. He would just roll his eyes at her or shake his head with a wry smile. But she persisted.

He actually liked the way they had finally started working together efficiently in Arithmancy – they were so far ahead of the class, Vector had given them extension work. The mad woman seemed to be overly excited and flustered that the two of them were accomplishing so much. He liked the way it made Granger sit up straight in her seat and smile with pride over each little ounce of praise. He had also been secretly delighted when a certain hot chocolate started appearing in front of his seat in the great hall sometimes after dinner when he was feeling particularly tired. It warmed his body and cheered his spirit each time without fail. Granger must have convinced the house elves to show him this kindness, which didn't surprise him. She could probably sweet-talk the pants off an ogre.

It was quite a simple concept to him now. She _cared_ about him. A muggleborn cared about him. And he wanted her to. He wanted to see those warm chocolate eyes, like the drink she had so kindly enticed him with, turned upon him with that endless compassion she seemed to be made of. It made him feel like, just for a moment, he wasn't alone. And he could see that she knew he was cracking. The secret, coy little smile on her face gave it away every time they chatted in class or in the library.

Draco turned his attention back down to the letter from his mother. His heart ached for her. As he read over her sombre words he felt his eyes prick a little and he didn't know if the wet sensation on his cheeks was from his tears falling or the gentle kiss of snowflakes as they drifted down around him. He needed to protect her. He couldn't let Voldemort punish him by hurting her. Which meant that this mission had to succeed. No matter the outcome, or who got hurt, as long as he pleased the Dark Lord then she would be safe.

Maybe after everything went down, he and his mother could escape somewhere far away. The only thing still nagging at his newly awoken awareness is what would happen to Granger. He felt like he owed her something. She clearly cared about him so he was compelled by some deeper force to care about her too. And if Death Eaters attacked Hogwarts…well, as Harry Potter's best friend she was probably the most notorious muggleborn in this place. She would be in grave danger.

Draco sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. It had started to snow more heavily as the sun went down. He heard laughing and the distant murmuring of voices below and knew that Slughorn's stupid party had begun. The music drifted up the stairwell in a cheerful melody that grated on his nerves.

Of course he hadn't been invited. Without Snape's genius for potions, he had lost a lot of interest in the subject, but that wasn't the reason Slughorn didn't like him. His father was in prison, and the old slug-face only wanted to surround himself with success. That's why he liked Granger. She may not have connections to anyone important in the wizarding world, or any connections at all, but the old geezer knew that she was special, that she would do brilliant things one day.

In DADA a couple of days ago, he'd heard Weasley complaining about not being invited too, and was glad at least the idiot was also considered insignificant or tainted. But then again, Weasley's problem wasn't so much that he wasn't invited, but that _both_ his friends had been. And he hadn't. Draco rolled his eyes. He was such a jealous brat. The moron simply couldn't understand why his curly haired friend had been invited instead of him, when neither of them were of any particular importance. But Draco could see clear as day how Slughorn had a soft spot for the girl who could brew perfect potions off the top of her head. He didn't degrade her like Snape used to. He saw and admired that indefinable spark she had.

 _Steady on, Draco,_ he thought with a shake of his head, trying to put her out of his mind, though it was harder than it should away from the ledge with a shiver as the new wave of snow froze him to his bones, Draco slowly wandered back down the spiralling staircase, determined to get in some more time in the Room of Requirement before curfew, while everyone was distracted at the Slug Club.

As he rounded a corner on the sixth floor, he only heard the slight sniffling sound a split second too late to warn him before he ran headlong into none other than Granger herself. It was like his mind had jinxed him for thinking about her too much, and she had materialised out of thin air.

His gut dropped unpleasantly. He didn't really want to talk to her; she gave him a headache and he was struggling enough as it was with his confused emotions tonight. But he had literally bowled her over when they crashed together, and he reached out a quick hand to grab her waist and steady her to stop her from falling. They both managed to catch their balance before their eyes met.

And then Draco froze.

He had of course thought once or twice about her appearance recently in his weaker moments, but had always tried to accept it as a passing objective thought. Yes, he found her mildly attractive, but his mind would normally distract itself by reciting all the other things he disliked about her. Irritating, self-righteous, sentimental, over-achieving, bossy. The list played on a loop in his brain late at night when he was alone in bed and feeling vulnerable.

But now…

Now he couldn't possibly _not_ notice that she looked stunning. She was wearing a simple dress in a deep red colour that hugged her tightly. It wasn't anything like the flouncy things that other girls such as Pansy wore. It was elegant, mature. Her curls were swept tantalisingly over one shoulder and she was wearing some kind of gloss on her delicate heart shaped lips. The couple of pieces of gold jewellery on her ears and around her wrist brought out the flicker of colour in her brown eyes. He was dumbfounded. He had never seen her look like this. Even at the Yule Ball she had merely looked pretty. But this was different; there was only one word for it… _sexy._

It wasn't until he blinked again in disbelief that he realised that her eyes were shimmering unnaturally and he saw a single crystalline tear slip off her perfect lashes and glide down her cheek. He realised he was still holding onto her waist and released her suddenly, making her stumble a little. He was suddenly irrationally mad at her for sucking the very air from his lungs, so he lashed out angrily.

"So did the boy finally step all over those smug feathers of yours, Granger?" he asked, sneering with contempt.

"Excuse me?" she responded with a hiccough, and he could see her angering already. That was good. Angry Granger he could deal with. Weepy Granger was distinctly scary.

"You heard me. Or did McLaggen realise you're just a cold fish and dump you?"

Her desolate wide eyes morphed into a look of outrage, and rather than making him happy, Draco found himself now in a worse position. She looked bloody hot when she was cross. He was starting to feel the quickening pulse in his body as it spread out from his beating chest and his skin heated hungrily with this acute awareness of her. He was out of the frying pan and into the fire, so to speak.

 _Shit,_ he swore to himself, _pull yourself together!_

"How dare you!" she spat at him.

"Oh come on, Granger. Did you actually think you would fit in with this fancy crowd? You have absolutely no value to them."

She furiously wiped the tears from her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. He supposed she was trying to look intimidating or cross, or maybe it was a defensive gesture. But all he could really focus on was how much he enjoyed seeing her start to bristle, her fury looking more adorable to him than it did menacing.

"You're just jealous that you didn't get invited," she said petulantly.

Draco chuckled and leaned in closer to her with a dark smile.

"Ah but then I'd have to associate with people like you."

Granger gave him a withering glare.

"Merlin forbid," she drawled.

Draco snorted.

"So what brought on the waterworks? You look like a dripping tap."

She frowned at his description, and if anything her shoulders hunched over more. He didn't know why he'd asked. He was supposed to be making her mad, and now he sounded like a concerned friend.

"That's none of your business," she mumbled in response.

"Which never seems to stop _you_ from prying into _my_ business," he countered in a teasing voice, trying to bring her out of her own misery. She sighed.

"True. But trust me, you don't give a damn about this. It's just something Ron said to me."

Draco shuffled uncomfortably on his feet. He was not good at this stuff.

"Well… Weasley is a useless little fuck."

Granger's eyes widened and met his in surprise.

"That's awfully nasty, even for you."

Draco shrugged.

"The idiot makes me want to vomit most of the time."

"Usually during dinner…"

Granger slapped a hand to her mouth in surprise that she'd joined in his teasing. He couldn't contain his little burst of laughter at the horror on her face.

"I guess there's hope for you yet, Granger," Draco grinned, surprised at the strange and easy humour they were sharing. Granger seemed unable to fight off a smile too, and she ducked her head as she blushed. He watched the way her curls wrapped around her slender neck as she moved, and had to fight down the sudden impulse to reach out and twist one around his finger.

"I shouldn't have said that," she murmured bashfully.

"Oh please do it again. I enjoyed it immensely."

She glared at him in a mockery of accusation.

"I think you're a bad influence on me," she drawled, making his smile widen even further. But before he could answer both their heads shot up when they heard a couple of fifth year boys laughing and moving on their way from the party. Draco became painfully aware then of how close he was standing to her. They were practically breathing into each other's lungs, and they mutually leapt apart at the noise. Both were jittery, their eyes darting around the corridor to check for anyone looking.

"I…I should go," Granger muttered.

Draco just nodded as she turned away. But before she got too far she sneaked one more glance back before the loud boys around the corner got any closer to them.

"Thank you."

He stared at her in confusion for a moment.

"What the hell for?"

She let out a shaky breath.

"Distracting me…"

And then she was gone and, after the boys walked past him drunkenly, he could only move robotically towards his intended destination. Which was where Filch found him.

….

After their strange and unexpected conversation in the hallway outside Slughorn's party, Hermione's relationship with Malfoy had continued to change. It wasn't anything major that she could put her finger on; they didn't make any big steps towards being nice to one another or anything. There was just a subtle shift in the atmosphere between them in class and when they met up to do homework. Sometimes they didn't even do their arithmancy together. More and more often they would just plough through their homework for _all_ their subjects now, helping each other out and discussing their notes.

One evening several days after the party during dinner in the Great Hall, she had felt him staring at her and she had raised her gaze from her book long enough to meet his eye. They did this frequently. It had become a routine for them to exchange at least one little look over a meal in the hall. Thankfully they were both clever enough to keep it subtle and avoid prying eyes from both students and staff.

On that evening he caught her eye and raised one elegant brow. She cocked her head to the side curiously. Then he jerked his head to one side. Following his movement she glanced next to her to see Ron shovelling shepherd's pie in his mouth like it was made of air. In fact, he was barely stopping to breathe. It was grotesque.

She turned her eyes away, feeling a bit sick, and met Malfoy's again. Against her better judgment perhaps, they swapped a brief, amused smirk before they returned their attention to their respective books.

...

 **It's definitely starting to warm up now. I know I'm probably going to make a million mistakes with the timeline of HBP, but it's so hard to keep track of it while trying to tell my own story too. Anyway…please leave all your lovely reviews as inspiration.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: I was thinking of telling the whole story of the past before I go back to the present day with Draco and Harry waiting together. But what do you think? Should I revisit them at all during the story? As always, JKR is gorgeous and we adore her.**

….

Hermione was battling her tiredness as she slumped her head into her hands at breakfast. Her jaw was tense with worry, and she kept glaring down at her porridge. Ever since she had read the early edition of the Daily Prophet this morning she had been on edge. But she had tried not to get too anxious or spill any tears. She didn't want to completely fall off the rails and risk upsetting Harry more than he already would be.

The Death Eaters had been broken out of prison. That meant that psychotic witches like Bellatrix Lestrange were at large – the woman responsible for torturing Neville's parents into insanity – and her equally deranged husband.

Hermione couldn't even get her mind around what had happened. As if the Death Eaters weren't already enough of a looming threat, now their numbers were bolstered by the addition of several violent lunatics. She remembered what Sirius had been like when he had escaped Azkaban. She knew Harry had loved him, but the man was seriously deranged from his time in the wizard prison. And she could only imagine how much worse it would be for these Death Eaters. They were already a bunch of sadists. And now they were probably insane to boot.

But what concerned her most was that Lucius Malfoy had escaped.

Even though the Great Hall was practically empty at this time of morning, she still usually expected to see _his_ arrogant blond head sitting there. But there was no sign of Malfoy yet. The atmosphere in the hall was tense. The teachers were all gathered together murmuring to each other, and the smattering of students out of bed were all subdued. Most were flipping through the newspaper in disbelief. Hermione had finished reading though; she'd had enough of all the horror stories about the terrible things these criminals had done in their former lives. And she was really worried about Malfoy. They usually gave each other a look or some acknowledgement when they saw each other in the early mornings when no one else was around, but today there was nothing. He wasn't there. She couldn't even begin to imagine what was going through his mind right now. Was he happy? Upset? Scared? Hermione's heart thudded and she took her time eating her light scrambled eggs on toast, just in case he turned up. Her patience finally paid off when, around seven thirty, he entered the hall. He was dragging his heels and he slumped onto a seat at the Slytherin table with a humongous sigh. He was clearly exhausted. It looked like he hadn't slept a wink.

Then again, neither had she.

Hermione stared at him long enough for him to get the message. He could always feel when she was burning him with her eyes. He slowly, reluctantly raised his head to glance at her. She knew her expression showed every inch of the concern and anxiety she was feeling. Malfoy stared at her blankly for a moment, before his face crumpled into just the tiniest hint of despair. She could see the way his jaw twitched as he grit his teeth and widened his eyes in a picture of desolation. She wasn't exactly sure why his father's freedom should make him so acutely distraught, but it was clear that it wounded him deeply. Obviously she didn't know everything about their father-son relationship, or what Malfoy was being forced to endure this year, but whatever it was, it was enough to make his gaze pierce her like a riot of turbulent and upsetting emotions. The interaction only lasted a few painful seconds before his head dropped back down to his newly appeared plate of food.

Hermione felt her heart clench for him. She couldn't bear to see him so intensely affected by this news. He looked like he was going to be sick. But then, as if on cue, when his other Slytherin friends entered the hall ten minutes later, everything changed. Malfoy saw them come in with a slight jolt. He sat up straighter and put the most arrogant smirk on his face she had ever seen. He looked triumphant, proud, as he grinned at them like the cat that ate the canary.

She was just starting to appreciate what a good actor he was. But then, she supposed he had to be. His very life depended on him performing his role just right. Sighing, Hermione picked up her bag and made her way to the library to get some study in before school. As she walked past the Slytherin table, she watched as Malfoy shot her his ugliest sneer, his gaze malicious and smug. His friends laughed uproariously, shattering the tense mood in the hall like an alarm. She just took a deep breath and kept moving at a calm, steadying pace. She figured if he had to play the part of the villain, then the least she could do was act the victim. But as she left the hall and hoisted her bag higher, her mind was moving a million miles an hour. She wanted to help him. And she had an idea.

….

It wasn't until later that day that she got a chance to see him properly up close. As usual, they automatically sat together in Arithmancy, not even bothering to argue or bargain to swap partners anymore. Vector had gotten very fond of pairing them together just to watch the amazing work they accomplished. They'd stopped bothering to fight it. And besides, they were almost getting along now. Not that Malfoy would ever admit it, she thought ruefully. They were like reluctant, but curious allies.

While the rest of the class were still talking and laughing as they waited for their teacher to finish a discussion outside with Professor McGonagall, Hermione shuffled minutely closer to him. He kept his gaze fixed on the blackboard ahead of them, his knuckles white from gripping his books as he stared sightlessly. She let her eyes wander over him worriedly. He was very pale, but in contrast to his clammy cheeks she could see that the now typical rings under his eyes had deepened to a mean purple. Tilting her head closer, she murmured out of the corner of her mouth,

"Are you okay?"

Malfoy rolled his eyes very slightly. But at least he had heard her, she thought.

"Leave it alone, Granger."

She let out a frustrated breath when he didn't even bother turning to face her. They usually enjoyed a little bit of banter back and forth before the lesson started. It could still sound quite nasty to an outsider, but had lost a lot of the bite from their earlier years.

"Your father-"

"I don't want to talk about it. Nosy Gryffindor."

"Stubborn Slytherin."

Malfoy huffed, and she wasn't sure if it was a laugh or an annoyed breath. She was just pleased that he was responding at all. When she continued to just stare at him, she saw him bristle a bit and turn his head slightly. He didn't face her, just angled his head so that he was closer to her when he spoke in a softer, more sombre voice.

"Seriously, Granger. I'm fine. Stop worrying."

Hermione instantly felt lighter. It wasn't often that he actually responded to her meddling. And he had indeed reluctantly answered her question after only a very small amount of his usual prickliness.

"Alright class, let's begin this week's quiz." Vector re-entered the classroom, guns blazing, and began distributing papers quickly, her wand flicking around so fast it was a blur, "Quills out, ready to write!"

As Hermione reached into her bag to get her quill, she also produced something cold and glass. Her heart thudded as she debated again whether to take the risk, and finally she grit her teeth with determination. It was quite possible that he would recoil in fear and storm out of the room, but at least she would have _tried_ to make him feel better.

Reaching over under the table she grabbed his hand with her fingers. She felt Malfoy physically jump next to her and try to prise his hand away out of shock. She held on tight and carefully slipped the small glass vial into his palm. Malfoy finally had the sense to take it, but she held on for just a moment longer. His hand was so cold. She waited a second as his skin warmed a little under her touch and then gave him a small squeeze and released him. She picked up her quill as if nothing had happened and started to tackle the first question on the paper in front of her. Hermione knew that she had perhaps held on for too long, but his hand had been sweaty and shaking, and she couldn't help but offer him some small amount of comfort. She also couldn't help but notice that he hadn't exactly thrown her off, either. He had sat there and accepted her bold move in stunned silence. She only hoped that her gift would be appreciated enough for him to forgive her brazenness.

….

It took Draco a few minutes to calm his racing heart and start breathing normally again. He had literally frozen from the shock of Granger grabbing him below the table. Her hand had been so soft, and he had felt that warmth spread through him from top to bottom. It had been…dizzying. His whole body had gone taut at the contact.

Finally he glanced downwards to the object clenched tightly in his hand. He could feel it was a potion vial, but looking down he read the label and saw the words " ** _dreamless sleep"_** scrawled on it. He was speechless. The warmth that had filled him with her touch surged up inside him once more. He could feel a clenching in his gut, below his naval as he took a deep steadying breath and smelled her apricot shampoo. He wished she hadn't let go of his hand. It had been soft, so unbelievably soft, and comforting.

Of course Granger had known that he wouldn't be able to sleep. His father was free from prison and he was dreading what that could mean for him. Now Voldemort had _two_ people to hold over his head and blackmail him with. Not to mention his own feelings towards his father were conflicted and uncertain. He honestly couldn't say for sure that he loved his father. Maybe he never had. There was too much resentment, too much pain that the older Malfoy had inflicted upon him throughout his childhood. Lucius was the reason that he had been forced to take the Dark Mark over the summer. And Draco wasn't sure he could forgive that. So Granger had given him a potion to help him sleep. It was a bit scary how she knew him so well. He wasn't sure whether he should worry about how close he had let her get to him. But she was close enough to see what everyone else seemed oblivious to. And she cared enough to try and help, even if it was in just some small way. He _wanted_ her to see him for what he really was. Suddenly he was no longer happy to have her thinking of him as a bigoted little death eater.

For a brief moment he wanted to turn his head and whisper a thank you to her. No one would overhear them. But his jaw was stiff and unresponsive. He couldn't do it. He opened his mouth a few times, but just ended up snapping it closed and frowning at his own weakness. Why couldn't he just do it? It was just two simple words; _thank…you._ He knew he should say it and that she deserved to hear it, but he was literally paralysed. So he just kept working, a little more distractedly than usual. He barely completed more than a few sums, scratching his quill mindlessly over the numbers as he scowled down at the paper. He was disappointed with himself.

Before he knew it, the class was over, and he still hadn't worked up the courage to do the right thing. The vial was still clenched like a vice in his now sweaty palm. But with a tinge of regret he watched as Granger calmly packed her bag and left the room without a backwards glance.

Maybe she understood how hard this whole situation was for him. She obviously knew that he was a complete novice at showing gratitude, and didn't want to make him feel embarrassed. So she just gave him his space and accepted all the most reticent parts of his personality.

Draco sighed and rubbed his hand over his face, shivering with the force of the sensory memory of the soft skin of her hand holding his.

He was in so much trouble.

….

When Harry was called to Dumbledore's office in the middle of the day for another secret meeting, Hermione was left in a sticky situation.

"Alright everybody," Slughorn said with a cheerful, if a little distracted, voice. "The instructions are on the board, so you can assign tasks between you and your partner to finish the first step of the potion. Miss Granger, my dear, since Harry is otherwise engaged this lesson, you are free to sit this one out and complete other homework or study. You can put your feet up, so to speak."

Hermione stared at the portly old teacher in outrage. Why should she have to sit out the lesson? It's not like she couldn't complete the potion on her own, anyway. Harry was by no means a fabulous Potions partner. From the look on Slughorn's pudgy face he obviously expected her to feel ecstatic about having some time to 'chill out'. He clearly didn't know her reputation very well. She spluttered uselessly for a moment, but before she could argue, he had turned to help Theodore Nott, and she was left gaping like a fish out of water.

"Damn, Hermione, you're so lucky. I knew I should've partnered Harry," Ron murmured, as he turned away to help Seamus with the ingredients.

She just rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest petulantly.

What was she supposed to do now? She'd done all her homework, of course. And there was only one chapter to go in her book. She began tapping her fingers on the desk, a dark scowl on her face. Hermione heard a chuckle behind her, and she spun to see Malfoy slicing a valerian root with a teasing smile directed at her.

"Just relax, Granger," he said in a low, teasing murmur so that only she would hear. She glared at him.

"Oh, piss off!" she retorted with a mocking frown, her bottom lip sticking out in a pout.

"Temper, temper!"

"This is _so_ not fair."

He chuckled again, and she allowed her lips to curve up into a reluctant smile.

"Maybe this is payback for all that…"

What he was going to say got cut off, as Pansy returned with a couple more supplies from the cupboard. Hermione shook her head with a laugh as he looked guiltily at Pansy and tried to pretend he was just sneering at her. Now that she could see through him more, she knew it was a superb fake, and she pulled a nasty mocking face in return at him, that was supposed to imitate his signature scowl. When his eyes widened in surprise, she turned back around innocently to face the front, leaving him gaping at the back of her head. It wasn't all that mature to tease him, but she couldn't help it; he took himself so seriously sometimes. And he probably never got poked fun at by his own worshipping fans in Slytherin.

Draco didn't seem to take well to her laughing, though, because next thing she knew a newt's eyeball hit her sharply on the cheek and dropped to the floor. He had obviously flicked it towards her, but when she glared at him he was suddenly busy doing more chopping and not meeting her eye. Rolling her eyes she crossed her leg over her other knee and tapped her foot in time to the rhythm of a song in her head. After only a couple of minutes, she was already bored stiff. She had started staring daggers at the clock, willing it to go faster. When another newt eye hit her, she spun around to give Draco a piece of her mind. But when she opened her mouth ready to hiss insults at him, she saw that Pansy was gone once again and he was leaning onto his counter closer to her, smirking casually.

"You look so bored you're even putting me to sleep, Granger!"

"I've finished all my homework!" she whispered back.

He rolled his eyes.

"Of course you have, swot."

She just narrowed her eyes at him. He sighed.

"Fine! Granger, check in my bag, it's just next to you there…" she looked over curiously and saw an expensive looking leather book satchel she knew to be his leaning against the table leg, "There's a book in it on apparition charms you might find interesting."

With a look of surprise, she bent forwards and flipped the bag open. There were a couple of advanced books on complex vanishing charms in there, but also the book he'd mentioned. **_The A-Z Appendix of Apparition._** She snapped it up excitedly and opened it to the first page, flicking through the contents and reading with interest. Hermione heard a snort behind her, and glanced back to see Malfoy looking at her with a smug smile. She shook her head, returning the smile with a blush and a self-deprecating shrug of her shoulders. The easy interaction between them surprised and pleased her.

"Thanks," she murmured softly, but he just scoffed and turned back to his potion, ignoring her, but smiling secretly also.

"Thank _you,_ " he murmured under his breath, and Hermione knew he was referring to the dreamless sleep vial she had given him. It was a bit delayed, but she appreciated his gratitude nonetheless. She shook her head fondly, and buried her head in the book. But behind her he still had a smirk on his face as he sliced his roots, occasionally looking up to watch the back of her curly head as she read.

….

"Watch where you're going, mudblood," Draco snarled, causing the few Slytherins around him to snigger and share meaningful looks. He had no idea what had possessed her to bump into him like that. He had been walking down the hallway as normal on his way to the last class of the day, when out of nowhere Granger had smacked straight into him, sending both their bags sprawling to the floor. Their books and equipment had been strewn out across the stone. The curly haired witch immediately ducked down to scoop everything up. She didn't even bother to respond to his angry words. She knew that he was just saying it for show, so his friends wouldn't get suspicious. They quickly tidied their bags, very conscious of the stares of all those around them. Draco watched closely as she stood to her feet with an armful of her belongings. She managed to catch his eye and she looked pointedly at the last book left on the floor. He grabbed it and turned it over. It was the text on apparitions that he had given her in Potions.

He pursed his lips to stop himself from laughing as she strode down the corridor without another word. Granger had obviously bumped into him on purpose to return it. As his friends lost interest in the little drama – Granger had done a good job of ignoring them all – he flipped through the pages of the book. He raised an eyebrow curiously as he saw a little note slip out into his hand. Draco unfolded the note and smirked to himself at what was written there.

 _I saw how little you ate at breakfast – make sure you have a big dinner!_

Of course she had noticed him at breakfast. He had only been able to stomach a few mouthfuls of cereal. He shook his head as he noticed a tight rumbling sensation in his stomach. He really was hungry. Damnit, she was right again. He chuckled to himself as he followed his friends to the last class of the day. He admitted to himself reluctantly that he quite liked having someone watching over him. And he was glad it was her.

….

Hermione wasn't a very good liar, so trying to reassure Harry that his theory about Draco Malfoy being a Death Eater was almost impossible. Especially since he was pretty much spot on. And Harry wasn't prepared to see the world in shades of grey yet. To him, you were either a good guy or a bad guy. And Malfoy fell into the latter category. So instead of arguing about it again, both Harry and Hermione had decided to just stay silent and go back to watching the pale face of their red headed friend relaxed and sleeping in the hospital wing He had been poisoned, almost killed. By Malfoy.

 _What in Merlin's name was he thinking?_

It had only taken one fleeting look across the great hall between them for her to realise that he was responsible. He had looked so guilty that his face was scrunched up in a rictus of shame.

But clearly Malfoy's mission this year wasn't to kill Ron Weasley of all people. It hardly seemed worth the bother. Something else had happened to throw his real plan off kilter. She kept trying to convince Harry that he was being irrational, and prayed that her friend wouldn't act impulsively. But it was hard to keep Harry under control when she herself also wanted to smack the blond Slytherin across the face again.

It didn't help her stress levels that all the teachers and even Harry thought that she was weeping over her loved one's comatose form in the hospital. She'd almost come to blows with Lavender Brown. Everyone was convinced that they were destined to be together, and that she was heartbroken. But was she really crying for Ron? There was a reason she was called the brightest witch of her age. Harry had administered the Bezoar quite quickly after the poisoning had happened and Madam Pomfrey had taken him into her knowledgeable care ever since, so Hermione knew logically that Ron would make a full recovery. That clearly wasn't why she was weeping. Not that she'd tell anyone the real reason.

She supposed she felt betrayed. Her disappointment was practically a palpable thing. Malfoy had almost killed one of her best friends. After all the kindness she had shown him. Clearly he didn't care who he hurt on his mission this year. Because Ron was just collateral damage, someone who got in the way of his real target. She couldn't believe he had been so stupid.

But that's where she had to stop and think about it, because Malfoy wasn't actually a stupid wizard. An arrogant, self-serving bastard, yes. But not stupid.

In fact, he was impressively smart. She'd come to respect his intelligence and common sense a over the course of their Arithmancy projects. She might be the top witch in their year, but he was still miles above the next best student.

Hermione sighed and rubbed her face tiredly. Harry had said that Slughorn claimed the wine was a present for Dumbledore. So Hermione had to assume that Malfoy intended to poison Dumbledore. That could certainly be a mission that Voldemort would assign to Malfoy. An impossible task, really, but with Lucius's failure and imprisonment after the ministry battle, she figured the task was meant to be some kind of punishment or test of loyalty.

What really bothered her was how desperate this attempt seemed. To try and trick Dumbledore with poison through a gift from Professor Slughorn was a long shot. Slughorn was notoriously greedy. So Malfoy must be really panicking to try something as far fetched as that.

Hermione shook her head and excused herself from the hospital as she saw Lavender returning. She honestly didn't have the energy to pretend to be involved in a teenage love spat.

She gave Harry a wan smile as she left. He was still looking very grim about the whole incident. It had been a hard job convincing him not to run after Malfoy and hex him. Harry was convinced that the Slytherin was responsible and she had tried all the cleverness in her arsenal to dissuade him.

As she wandered through the corridors aimlessly, she frowned down at her feet. What if the next time Ron wasn't so lucky? What if Harry hadn't found that bezoar in time? Her mind spun with the horrible possibilities as she scowled to herself. It was too frightening to consider. She needed to protect her friends better.

Maybe she was done with Draco sodding Malfoy after all.

….

When another distorted apple came out of the cabinet, Draco picked it up and hurled it across the room violently into the piles of trash. He gave a pitiful growl, clenching his fists so hard that the nails dug into his palms.

Rumours had been circulating wildly around Hogwarts about the love triangle going on in the Hospital Wing. All the girls in Slytherin were whispering about how Lavender Brown had dumped her boyfriend because she had discovered that he was romantically involved with Granger. Pansy had been chattering excitedly about how the curly haired muggle-born had only confessed her love to the ginger weasel after seeing him lying so helplessly in his hospital bed. Of course, the gossips might be exaggerating it a bit, but there was usually plenty of truth to rumours too.

He couldn't believe it.

Somehow his bumbling, panicked attempt at poisoning the headmaster had wound up pushing Granger into the arms of the idiot menace with half a brain. Not that cared who Granger dated really, he reminded himself. She just deserved someone a bit smarter, that's all. Weasley was even worse than that oaf McLaggen. At least with McLaggen he knew that she wasn't really serious. But it was quite possible that she had genuine feelings for the weasel.

Draco sighed and collapsed back on an old rickety desk. He had no business thinking about Granger's love life. For fuck sakes, he couldn't even say her first name. So why did he feel strangely possessive over her? Why did he want to march into the hospital wing, confess his role in the poisoning just to see the git's face go red, then punch him right in his big ugly nose?

He needed to get out of here. The claustrophobia wasn't helping. But as he strode through the halls, up the winding stairs towards the astronomy tower, he couldn't help but wonder whether Granger had worked it out.

 _Who am I kidding, of course she has,_ he thought wryly. She was too damn smart for her own good. When their eyes had met in the great hall she had narrowed her eyes at him in that way she often did when she was unravelling a puzzle. He had panicked and fled. But it was very likely that she had taken that as a sign of his guilt.

Was she angry with him? If she had indeed realised that he was responsible for the poison then he was extremely anxious to see how she behaved next time he saw her. He had become addicted to their little interactions. He craved her company like one of his limbs, and he worried that if she ended their bizarre relationship that he wouldn't cope. He _needed_ someone to worry about him. He needed her gentle presence in his life to remind him that not everything was dark and going to shit. She was like a balm to his frayed nerves every time she gave him that precious little smile she reserved only for him.

He wanted to go hunt her down now just to confront her. To make sure that she knew it was an accident. But as soon as he leapt to his feet to stride out the door and go find her, he paused. A wave of misery washed over him. He was such a desperate and pathetic loser. Draco grit his teeth and made the determination to hold off until he saw her at breakfast tomorrow. At least she couldn't hex him in public. He would just have to wait a few more hours and see if he really had ruined things forever with her.

...

 **Thanks for reading. Hopefully they will get things sorted out between them soon. Poor Draco. Please leave your lovely reviews and let me know what you think!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note: I'm back again after a week. It's getting so busy at this time of the year, but hopefully I'll get more writing opportunity over Christmas. Thank you to all the awesome suggestions for my timeline. I'll try to do it justice. I don't want to jump back and forth too much. As always, JKR is a decadent barrel of surprises!**

….

 _Come on, Granger, look up._

They had been sitting opposite each other in the dining hall for at least ten minutes with hardly any other students around them and only half the teachers, and she still hadn't met his eye. They always exchanged a look over breakfast. It was so normal now. But today she was steadfastly refusing to lift her curly head out of that damn book. She must know that he was staring at her. There was hardly anyone in the hall and they both had a sixth sense for each other when it came to long looks over breakfast. Which meant she was ignoring him. He clenched his fist around his fork and started to dig into his eggs a little more violently than necessary, drawing some stares from the couple of Slytherin first years nearby.

It wasn't until the hall was at least a quarter full, and she had finished off her meal with a delicate wipe of her napkin on her mouth, that Granger stood and lifted her eyes. She looked straight at him. Instead of the warm, often playful expression she often gave him, with that humorous quirk of the lip, today her eyes were cold. She stared at him like he was a bug under her shoe. Draco's body went tense in response to the accusatory glare she sent his way. After a moment she turned with a haughty flick of her hair and swept from the hall. He felt his gut plummet unpleasantly, and he instantly pushed his plate away from him, appetite gone. He had been right the night before. She hated him. His stupidly desperate attempt to kill the headmaster had been a huge mistake. Of course she would be furious with him. He was furious with himself. He wanted to make this right. He needed to track her down and let her know that it had been an accident, and see if she would continue being hostile with him. He needed her to keep talking to him, caring for him. He was coming to depend on her concern so quickly. If she stopped trying to make him feel better then he would just go back to being hollow and tired day after day without the tiny slither of hope she gave him.

But before he could leave to chase after her, Pansy Parkinson plonked herself down rather inelegantly next to him in a flurry of repugnant perfume and groans of disdain. She immediately started talking at him in her whiny voice,

"Draco, you wake up too early - it's unseemly," she gave him a little pout that made him clench his teeth. Pansy had seemed charming and flirty in his earlier years, but what was endearing in an eleven year old girl had soon become distasteful in a young woman. Theodore Nott snorted from across the table.

"Actually he never went to sleep. His bed was empty all night," he said in a secretive voice, as eager to share gossip as Pansy was. The pug faced girl gasped, as if scandalised.

"Draco Malfoy! You're not sleeping with some trashy Hufflepuff girl are you? We might have to get you disinfected."

Draco sighed in exasperation.

"For fuck sakes, Pansy, you know I'm busy this year. Don't be ridiculous."

Pansy and Theodore swapped a slightly impressed, knowing look, picking up on the hint that he was busy with his work for the Dark Lord.

"It's ok, Draco, I bet _he_ keeps you very busy…"

Draco just rolled his eyes.

"It doesn't matter anyway," Nott said in a nasty drawl, "The only girl he seems to spend any time with this year is Mudblood Granger."

Pansy made an elaborate, over the top noise of disgust that travelled loudly down the length of the table, turning a few heads their way.

"Eurgh, how disgusting. Don't even joke about it, Nott."

"I'm not! They were in the library together every night last week."

Pansy turned her horrified eyes back to him.

"Poor Draco! Why?"

"She's my partner for Arithmancy, unfortunately," he muttered, hoping to avoid the conversation altogether, or at least get it over with quickly. Pansy gasped again in revulsion, while Nott just laughed darkly at him.

"That's like my worst nightmare," Nott declared in a quiet voice, "Being forced to work on something with a muggle like her. I can't imagine what it's like having to explain everything to them like a fucking child and put up with their stench."

Draco just nodded mutely, pretending to drink his tea to hide the slight scowl on his face. Of course, he never had to explain anything to Granger. Sometimes it was the other way around. Her upbringing clearly had nothing to do with her ability to understand magic. Which Nott and Pansy should know, since she trounced them in everything. But there were levels of denial that he had only recently himself escaped from.

As for her _stench…_ well, it was actually rather intoxicating.

Draco wondered whether he had sounded this ridiculous when he despised muggleborns. Back in the time before he became more aware of Granger in their fifth year and what she meant for his beliefs. This kind of rampant ignorance - as if they didn't fully believe that she was honestly coming first in every subject – was just weird to him now.

And he had probably sounded worse to be honest.

"I have to go," he said through clenched teeth, and he rose and walked out before they could say anything more, hoping his departure suited his usual arrogant attitude, and that he didn't look too offended on Granger's behalf. They just stared after him and then started muttering under their breaths to each other. He shot a cold glare at some of the other first and second years whispering about him, and they instantly shut up. He still had a lot of power in Slytherin.

Draco paused once he was outside the Great Hall and sighed. His first class was actually Artithmancy, and even though he was a bit early he started to head up to the seventh floor. The closer he got, the more his heart starting pounding, both anticipating and dreading the chance to talk to her, or even just sit next to her.

When he reached the room, she was the only one outside, sitting cross-legged on the stone floor with her nose crammed into a book. He checked his watch; it was still fifteen minutes until class and the rest of the corridor was deserted.

Knowing that he had to play this carefully, Draco crept forwards and moved down the wall until he was sitting next to her, one leg stretched out casually in front of him. Granger barely raised her head or acknowledged him in any way. He waited there in silence for a little while, tapping his foot and shooting furtive glances at her. His eyes followed the twisting shape of her braid as it circled her face and fell in one thick strand over her shoulder. Her mouth was set in a little frown of her concentration as she read; or as she tried her best to ignore him more likely.

"You're angry," he muttered quietly out the side of his mouth.

"No shit," she whispered back.

Draco sighed and rubbed his hand over his face, messing up his sleek hair in the process. A few strands flopped over his forehead gently. He shifted a bit closer towards her, angling his body to face her more.

"What happened with Weasley…I…It wasn't supposed to-"

"Don't!" she interrupted forcefully, and he immediately fell silent. She had lifted her eyes to his briefly, and gave him a heated look, before returning her attention to her book. He felt a painful twinge of guilt gnaw at his chest. They stayed like that for a while before the awkward quiet between them was too much for him to bear. He was desperate to get her to speak to him, even if it was to make her angry. Yelling would be better than this stiff silence. He turned to her urgently once more.

"I didn't have a choice, Granger-" he began to say.

She turned to him then, and her brown eyes were alight with an emotion that he couldn't identify. But whatever it was, it burned right through him and he felt his skin prickle all over.

"You always have a choice," she said in a low, serious voice.

Draco stared at her eyes for a few seconds longer before the intensity became too much. But when he went to lower his gaze, that merely made him drop his line of sight to her perfect pink lips. They were partly open and she was breathing in quick angry pants that he could feel on his cheek. That was when he realised how close they were sitting to each other. Suddenly he was seized with the impulse to just lean those few centimetres forwards. What would her lips feel like against his? Would they be as soft as the rest of her? His own were cracked and dry, and he yearned to feel her moist cupids bow pressed up against him.

"I'm sorry," he whispered eventually, and he watched as her eyelashes fluttered gently and closed. She took a deep breath and then looked at him again.

"I know. But that doesn't mean I'm ready to forgive you."

"Okay," he said, nodding in agreement. He was quite pleased actually. At least that meant that she might forgive him _sometime_. Draco wasn't sure what he'd do without his new arithmancy partner or confidante. And he was only just brave enough to admit that he wanted something else from her right now. She had trapped him in her deep brown gaze and she was biting into her bottom lip in that infuriating way that made him really want to grab her and kiss her. Nott and Pansy were wrong; there was nothing disgusting about her at all. Quite the opposite. He wasn't sure Granger knew the direction of his thoughts, but she did jerk away from him a bit, standing to her feet. There was a look of mild panic on her face as the sound of thunderous footsteps came from the next corridor. The other students were slowly milling about on their way to classes now after breakfast. With a sigh he strode a few steps away from her in agitation, frowning darkly and cursing himself for a fool. But he still tried to look just as conceited and menacing as ever when the other sixth years rounded the corner.

….

Hermione had felt her heart thudding strangely with nerves as they entered the classroom that morning. She was all too aware of how close she'd just been sitting to the boy who'd almost murdered one of her best friends. It was seriously messed up.

She should have slapped him. Hard.

But then he'd looked so regretful, so sad. And he had apologized with every ounce of sincerity. It turned out it was really hard for her to hate him these days. Not now that she understood him better. And then he'd dropped his eyes to stare at her mouth and she'd felt anxious for some reason. Was he thinking about the ugly, buck-toothed girl from their early years? She licked her lips, unsure how to feel about the intensity of the moment they'd just shared. She could only assume that he was confused, and desperate. Still struggling with his hatred for her, trying to reconcile it with his newer emotions. Maybe there was still hope for him.

He clearly wasn't evil, despite Harry and Ron's spiteful arguments to the contrary. He seemed… lost. And she wasn't sure if it was a good thing to become a lifeline to him. She knew he was starting to rely on her, if his worried behaviour this morning was anything to go by. That was a dangerous path. But at the same time she acknowledged that it might be too late to change that. She had chosen this path, and she would damn well make sure she saw it through to its conclusion.

 _Stubborn Gryffindors indeed._

Now she just had to find it deep within her heart to forgive him for being such a reckless fool. Even though she wasn't quite ready to yet.

Later that afternoon as she was sitting with a scowl in the common room, she was pleased to see that Ron had recovered enough to be up and about. The two boys were packing madly to get ready for Christmas. Hermione just sunk back deeper into the couch cushions with a resentful frown. She was feeling pretty bitter about the Christmas holidays this year. Ron and Harry were both travelling to the Burrow for Christmas. She was, of course, not invited. Once he had emerged at last from the hospital wing, Ron had instantly made up with Lavender, much to her disgust, and now both of them seemed to be throwing it in her face. Obviously Lav-Lav was just a spiteful little cow, but she wasn't so sure about Ron's motives for being so cruel. She had a bad feeling that he wanted to make her jealous. It didn't help that the whole school thought she was having some kind of torrid affair with him, and it was putting Lavender on edge, more malicious than usual. Even Parvati was sick of her. So Hermione had received no invite to the Burrow this Christmas, and although Harry suggested once or twice that he stay at school with her to keep each other company, she wouldn't let him. The Weasleys were his family now; he needed them. And besides, some extra time with Ginny among all the holiday spirit would certainly be good for him.

Her own parents were in France. They had been talking about moving there for an extended stay for years now, and when Voldemort had returned she had done everything in her power to encourage them to live out that dream. At least they were safe for now, at least.

But that left her as one of the very few students staying behind at the school. There would only be a handful of Gryffindors, a couple of Hufflepuffs, A small, close-knit group of Ravenclaws, and one lonely blond Slytherin.

"Are you _sure_ you don't want me to stay, Hermione?" Harry asked, coming to lean on the side of the couch with a sheepish smile.

" _No!_ You go have fun at the burrow. I'll probably just spend all my time in the library anyway."

"Hmmm…" Harry didn't look convinced, but he gave her another squeeze on the shoulder before he hoisted his bag onto his shoulder. "Alright, well you take care of yourself then. And Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, Harry," she smiled in reply, and gave her friend a tight hug before he reluctantly left her alone in the common room. She had never said goodbye to Ron; he had been swept away by Lavender for a last snog before they were parted. Hermione just shook her head wryly and returned to her quiet reading. At dinner that evening the tables had been vanished in the Great Hall, and all the students and teachers sat around a single large table in the centre of the room. With only four days until Christmas Day, some of the more excitable ones were really getting into the spirit, like Hagrid and his rousing Christmas carols, and even Sprout who enjoyed her eggnog a little too much. After one fairly tedious evening of watching the merriment without really feeling all that warm and snuggly about Christmas herself, Hermione dragged her feet behind her on her way to the library. She was looking for sanctuary. The castle was very lonely, but even so she longed for the comforting solitude behind the shelves of books.

Picking up an interesting tome on the origins of Burn-Healing potions, Hermione settled into her regular seat in the alcove and allowed herself to become fully absorbed in the book.

….

Draco leaned against the shelves at the entrance to the alcove. Granger was buried in a thick potions book. It was an enormous tome that she could barely lift from the desk. He could actually see from where he was standing the way her eyes flickered over the page so fast they almost blurred. But despite that her whole demeanour was relaxed. She was clearly calm and in a little protective bubble of books where she felt at home. He was still confused as to why she had stayed at school at all for the holidays. Why wasn't she visiting her parents? Or the Weasley hovel? Both her irritating friends had gone. Pushing himself off the shelf, he quickly grabbed a book and wandered through the seats right into their area. With an air of dignified silence, he pretended to sit near her to read it. But when Draco opened it, he cast an amused smile down as he realised it was a book on household gardening charms for disagreeable plants. With a chuckle, he decided he'd try to at least read a paragraph. It only took a couple of minutes for Granger to realise she wasn't alone, and even less time to erect her prissy little walls as a defence mechanism. She sat up straighter and released a frustrated sigh, slamming her book closed.

"Something wrong, Granger?" he drawled, still reading as if it was incredibly important.

"What do you want, Malfoy?"

He shrugged his shoulders, eyes still on the book.

"What makes you think I want anything? I was under the impression this was a public study library."

She huffed, and he could have sworn she almost laughed.

"So…just having some horticultural issues, then?" she asked in amusement.

 _Damn._ He hadn't thought she'd been able to read the title of his fake book. He lifted his head and gave her a sly little smirk. At least she was talking to him now.

"Maybe," he drawled, "Sometimes I certainly feel like there's a thorn in my side."

She pursed her lips a little, and Draco wondered if she was trying not to smile. Her posture relaxed a bit as she leaned back in her chair and watched him suspiciously.

"I really should hex you," she muttered quietly, seriously.

He met her eyes with a direct stare.

"So do it."

She frowned and looked more closely at him. He forced himself not to squirm in his seat, but stay still and calm.

"I know you're not an idiot, Malfoy."

"Is that supposed to be a compliment?"

"You would never endanger your plans in such a stupid way, you've got more common sense than that-"

"Stop it, you're making me blush-"

"So then that makes me wonder why? Why concoct a plan that was so certain to fail?"

He had no retort this time. He just stared at her as she frowned and put the pieces together herself. He could see the fierce intelligence in her gaze and actually felt the force of her mind working.

"Did you _want_ to be caught?" she asked tentatively, sinking her teeth anxiously into her bottom lip. He didn't reply. But his silence was answer enough. She looked at him long and hard. This time he did squirm a little in his chair, uncomfortable under her intense gaze. Finally she spoke again, only now her voice was hoarse and low, and he felt a twinge in the pit of his stomach that he quickly tried to suppress,

"You could talk to Dumbledore. He would help you-"

He scoffed, his expression revealing his disdain.

"You're such an insufferable Gryffindor."

"And you're incredibly stubborn. Give me one good reason why you can't turn yourself in and make things right!"

"Because he'd kill my parents," he blurted out without really thinking.

Granger actually gasped at that. One tremulous hand went up to her mouth to stifle the sound, but he could still see the horror in her eyes.

"Besides, if I succeed I will be greatly honoured," he bluffed, shrugging his shoulders casually to gauge her reaction. She gave him a withering, piercing look.

"I don't believe you really think that."

"Bully for you."

What he didn't expect was for her to get out of her seat calmly and move to sit right next to him. He had managed to appear level headed so far, but now that she was so close he was painfully aware of and muddled by the smell of her shampoo.

"What if we could get them out-"

"No, Granger. You're trying to understand something you have absolutely no experience of! Nobody can help me. I have to do this."

He saw her bite her lip harder, and could have sworn the candlelight reflected a telling wetness in her eyes.

"Don't you _care_?" she murmured raggedly.

Draco felt a jolt of something leap in his gut. The swooping sensation in his navel was tightening at her closeness and the sheer passionate expression on her face. But somehow he managed to keep a cool façade, although it took every muscle of concentration in his body. He returned her look with tight lips and hard eyes. It was his only defence against her.

"Why do _you_ care so much?" he challenged back to her.

Her brow furrowed and she looked at him with disbelief.

"Don't you get it? I'm Harry Potter's mudblood best friend. If your Dark Lord wins, then I'm dead."

His heart jumped painfully at her use of the word _mudblood._ It sounded even worse coming from her than it did from him. And she was absolutely right too. That was exactly why _he_ was railing against it, his conscience clawing at him to change things, to not go down this violent path. He had no particular desire to see hundreds of people murdered without logic or reason, and especially not her.

But he also felt a crushing disappointment. A part of him had wanted to hear her declare right here that she cared about _him._ That she didn't want him to get hurt. Even though he already knew she simply didn't think of him in that way; he was just someone to be pitied; a project to work on like the house elves. He shook his head to recover.

"I thought Gryffindors were supposed to be brave," he sneered with a sad edge to his voice that he simply couldn't hide. She looked at him in shock.

"That's not what I meant…"

Then she did something that he hadn't expected. She reached out across the desk and grabbed his hand, holding it in her own. It was just like the time she had touched it under the desk in Arithmancy. Her skin was so warm and soft, and his whole body reacted to the sensation. He literally rocked forwards in his seat, unable to control his body's pathetic thrill of excitement. He was swept up in a conflict of panicked thoughts. He felt humiliated that his body was betraying him and shame that he was starting to get aroused just from a simple touch of her fingers. Draco shifted a bit in his seat and stared down at their joined hands. He desperately hoped that she wouldn't let go. His skin was craving hers, rippling with a kind of hunger that he had never felt before. He had to grit his teeth to turn his attention back to what she was saying.

"…Of course I'm scared for myself, why wouldn't I be? But this is bigger than just me. Yes, it's partly about protecting Harry. But at the same time I also don't want _you_ to do something you'll regret for the rest of your life. I want you to be able to have a choice, but still be safe from him."

Draco was so focused on the feel of her hand still griping his that he almost didn't register her words. But then he lifted his eyes to meet her intense gaze, and it sunk deeper into him than a blade.

"I can't escape from this, Granger," he whispered with a voice that sounded far too weak to his ears, "There are people I care about too, and it seems like no matter what I do, someone will get hurt."

He was ashamed to feel the prickling behind his eyes that said he was getting upset. But it instantly disappeared when he felt pressure on his hand and looked down to see that she was squeezing him with her own delicate fingers. He took a shaky breath and swallowed the lump in his throat. Then, nervously, he turned his hand slightly so that he was holding hers as well.

"Please don't let him use you like this," she whispered after what seemed like an hour of silence, "you're better than this," she added in a throaty voice.

"No, I'm just a pawn."

"You could be so much more…"

He felt the muscles in his hand spasm then. It was as if he wanted to grip her tighter and wrench his arm away all at the same time. She blinked a bit as she felt him tense and twitch. As if to soothe him, she gently ran her thumb over the clammy skin of his hand, stroking him like she was taming a wild animal. Her thumb came frighteningly close to the edge of his wrist and his sleeve, where his hand met the ominous figure of the dark mark beneath his clothes.

Draco shuddered and was alarmed to feel that he was most definitely failing to fight off his arousal now. His face flushed in shame. Considering the seriousness of the conversation, surely it was utterly disgusting for him to be so turned on by her at the same time as she pleaded her moral case _._ But his body hadn't felt this alive in months, with the exception of that time he started bickering with her outside Slughorn's party. When she had been wearing that sinful red dress. He had started to worry that with all the stress of his task this year for the Dark Lord that his libido was just withering away into nothing. But the feeling of blood throbbing against the tight confines of his pants was like an aching reminder of something he had almost forgotten.

He had to get out of there before he made a complete and total fool of himself. Granger was scared and upset. The last thing she needed was some horny Death Eater drooling all over her and getting hard from a simple handhold. She was better than that; better than him, he realised suddenly.

And the last thing he wanted was her pity; that focused look of sympathy on her face revolted him. She would be safer if she had nothing to do with him, and he would be safer without the temptation she posed to him, the coaxing need to please her. He needed to fix this right now. Ripping his hand from her grasp, he slammed his fist down on the table, making her startle.

"This is _my_ life on the line, Granger. _My_ parents. I will do what needs to be done. So just fuck off and leave it alone, alright?"

And with that he stood and stalked angrily from the room, his gait a little awkward because of the stiffness between his thighs, but he had turned quickly enough that she wouldn't notice, and made his way hastily back to the dungeons, her sad sniffling fading into silence behind him.

….

It was almost an hour later, and Draco was pacing in front of his bed in the dormitory. Why wasn't it going away? Every time he thought he'd conquered it or distracted himself, another memory taunted him with flashes of her stroking his skin or holding his hand as she bit her insufferable lip. He'd tried reading a book, practicing spells and now walking around like a prowling animal, but his mind kept punishing him with thoughts of how she would have reacted if he'd just grabbed her and kissed her right in the middle of the library. Would she have stopped him? Would she have pushed him away if he had tried to press her back into the desk to feel her soft curves against him.

These thoughts were ridiculous. Of course she would have stopped him. She was the honourable Gryffindor princess with her stuck up morals, not to mention her holier than thou attitude towards everything and everyone. She shouldn't have this kind of effect on him, should she? Maybe his father had been right, and it was like an infection, and he was suffering from some kind of addiction towards her. But that sounded stupid, even to his confused mind.

His brain clearly didn't have enough blood to think it through logically, instead continuously throwing images at him of her biting into her bottom lip as she always did when she was thinking. He imagined replacing her teeth with his own and biting down on her bottom lip as he kissed her senseless. He had wanted so badly to just let her worry about him; let her think that he was trying to be a good guy so that her defences would be down. Then she might allow him to lay her down on the library desk and just kiss her with total abandon, to see if she tasted as good as she smelt as he reached up her skirt to find her wet…

 _Cold shower!_

This had to stop _right now._ He practically raced into the bathroom; so glad he was here alone in the dormitory these holidays to work on his task. Turning on the faucet as cold as he could, he stepped under and shivered at the freezing temperatures. As a gut instinct against the freezing pain, he quickly fiddled with the taps until he had balanced it out with a bit of hot water just so he wouldn't have a heart attack.

Working on autopilot, his mind immediately turned to the thought of Granger's soothing medicinal hot chocolate, but that only raised more images of _her._ He'd never let himself dwell too much on the silky curls that would be so perfect for him to grab hold of. Or the tantalising curl of her lips, that soft pouting shape of her mouth…

 _Of fuck,_ he groaned, realising too late that between the more bearably warm water and those images swirling in his head, he had gripped himself in his hand. Almost unconsciously, he had started pumping his cock in slow, hesitant strokes, thinking of Granger on her knees, hidden in the back of her precious library with Madam Pince only a few metres away as she pleasured him innocently, his hand tangled in her curls as he fucked himself into her inexperienced little mouth.

Draco couldn't believe how quickly it spiralled out of control. It was only a few short seconds of heat and a fierce ache in his balls before with a final hard tug he came. His seed erupted from him, splattering against the tiled wall of the shower as he shuddered at the blinding force of his pleasure, knowing as he did that he had crossed a very dangerous line. It was one thing to be intrigued by her, even attracted to her. But projecting her as the object of some twisted fantasy meant he was sinking deeper into risky territory.

Stumbling from the shower in shock, he wrapped a towel around himself and sank to the ground, shaking. What would she think of him? No doubt she would be horrified or disgusted. She'd been upset by the idea of what could happen if he continued on his path; she had been afraid of dying because of her blood status. And he'd just gotten off thinking about her on her knees before him. He really was a filthy death eater.

She didn't need him to protect her. She needed protection from him!

….

 ** _October 27_** ** _th_** ** _, 2001_**

Draco watched Potter closely as the Boy-Who-Lived sat there with his head in his hands, listening to the shocking story. Of course, he had been trying to gloss over some of the more unpleasant or sordid details about the friendship he had built with Hermione through their sixth year. It wouldn't do to freak the boy out when he was clearly having difficulty coping as it was.

"So…wait…you were still just partners in Arithmancy class before the Christmas holidays?"

"Sort of," he agreed with a slight shrug, "I wouldn't have exactly called us friends, but right from the beginning we were drawn to each other. Well…after a bit of tension anyway."

"Wow," Harry just shook his head in total bemusement. He clearly wasn't sure what to say. He kept opening and closing his mouth dumbly as if he started to speak but then chickened out.

"Look, Potter, I know what you're thinking. But I had already changed a lot by then. I didn't want to serve the Dark Lord, I was just trying to survive. And she was trying to help me."

"How did I not pick up on any of this?"

Draco chuckled darkly.

"Well you weren't exactly the brightest wizard in the school…"

Potter shot him a nasty glare and he held his hands up innocently, "Hey, I couldn't resist."

"Hmmm…it seems some things never change. So what happened next? Did you get closer that Christmas while everyone was away?"

Draco sighed and ran his hands through his hair.

"Yeh. A lot closer. I was already attracted to her, but it was over the break that we really became _friends._ "

Draco smiled gently to himself as he remembered the first time Hermione suggested that they be friends. She had said the word with such a sweet, innocent smile that he had been powerless to resist her charm.

"This is heavy," Potter sighed, running his hands through his messy hair.

"You're telling me," Draco agreed with a bitter smile.

They fell into an awkward silence for a few moments as Potter tried to digest everything. He leaned back on the couch and looked over at Draco with a puzzled frown.

"Malfoy, everything that happened since then…the war, your trial, Hermione's condition, leaving school and starting work at the ministry… all these years. Why did you never say anything?"

"How could I?" he responded curiously, "She had no memory of it."

"Yeh, but…err…you clearly still care about her. And she didn't need your protection after the war ended. You could have told her."

Draco shook his head sadly, feeling the very familiar twinge of regret grow in his chest like an acute pain. He had gone over this himself in his head again and again. It had nearly destroyed him. For months after the war, he had been a hollow shell of himself. He knew that he had lost her forever, and he had only been able to find solace in the bottom of a bottle of firewhiskey. It had taken a long time for him to find the courage to even leave the manor and risk seeing her at public events. And every time he did he was sent spiralling backwards into bad habits. There was nothing more painful than seeing her on the arm of that ginger haired moron, looking so happy and in love that it made him want to vomit. The first time he saw them together he actually had been sick. It had driven him to act stupidly on too many occasions. He had drunk himself into a stupor more times than he could count.

"No, I couldn't. She hated me. And I didn't think I was strong enough to handle her rejecting me when she found out."

"Wow. You really do have feelings for her, don't you?"

"You have no idea."

Before Potter could respond there was a sharp rapping on the door. Their heads shot up as the person knocked again. This time it was a bit more urgent. They exchanged a glance, but neither seemed to be expecting anyone to turn up, and it wasn't the polite tap of the specialist returning to check on Hermione.

"Harry, are you there? Let me in!"

The voice came from the one person who Draco had absolutely no desire to see right now. He exchanged a frustrated look with Potter as the knocking got louder and turned to an impatient banging.

Ronald Weasley was here.

 **Okay, so I allowed a very small flashback to the present here just to check up on Harry's progress. He's starting to come to terms with it. Please leave lovely reviews as usual.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note: Thank you for all your very heart-warming reviews, I'm so pleased you're enjoying this story. As a big fan of the Hunger Games books I was really excited to watch the latest film recently, so see if you can pick a sneaky little homage to them in this chapter. As always, JKR is a plethora of talent.**

….

"It's _fine_ Ron, seriously. She just had a bit too much champagne and took a fall."

Draco pressed his ear against the door and listened carefully as the ginger moron who he hated more than anyone in the world blustered and huffed and stomped his foot like a child.

"Bloody hell, Harry. She was out cold! The press went mad."

"She'll be alright. It's nothing she hasn't dealt with before with Rita Skeeter,"

The blond Slytherin rolled his eyes as he heard Weasley's continued complaints. It was funny how he had always held a grudge against the other boy. In their interactions for work and in putting together a defence for his trial after the war, he and Potter had managed to get along quite cordially. But it had simply never worked with Weasley. The two of them couldn't stand each other, and were always that one little step away from cursing each other when they were in the same room. He supposed that made sense, since the freckled git had supposedly dated Hermione after the war. They had been rumoured to be a couple for a few months, before a humiliating break up was splashed across the daily prophet. Draco wanted nothing more than to punch the ugly loser in his splotchy face. He could feel his knuckles tingling every time they were within a few metres of each other. There was only one thing worse than the thought of Ron bloody Weasley having the good luck to date Hermione, getting to kiss her and put his hands on her. And that was that the idiot had clearly not even bothered to appreciate her. If Draco were so lucky as to have that opportunity, then he would cherish every moment and never let her go. It just proved to him that Weasley was denser than a slab of concrete.

So it was a damn good thing that Potter had suggested he hide in the bedroom when the knock sounded at the door. He was pretty sure he wouldn't be able to stop himself from tackling Weasley to the ground if the Gryffindor came anywhere near him right now. He was already on edge worrying about Hermione, and he was sure it would tip him over. So he had hissed at Potter, well it was more like a growl, to get rid of the orange git. Harry to his credit had nodded in understanding and promised to do his best.

"Ron, mate, it's okay, you can go home. Hermione's just resting it off."

"But…does this have anything to do with her… _thing._ "

"No…er…she's been a lot better lately, actually."

Draco heard the redhead sigh and push off the doorway.

"Well if you're sure…I suppose I'll go back to the burrow. Just let me know if I can help."

Draco sighed in relief and blocked out the rest of their dull conversation as they said their goodbyes. Instead he turned around to face the bed, and as he did he felt his heart skip a little. Hermione was lying there so still, her beautiful hair spilling out across the pillow in dense curls. He remembered how soft it had been to touch, and wondered if it was just as thick as it had always been. With a slight tremble in his step, he cautiously approached the bed to look down at her. God damn she was just as stunning as she had been when they were in school, perhaps even more so. He hadn't had many chances to get this close to her in recent months. He couldn't believe what a fool he'd been for resisting this feeling for so long in sixth year. True, he had succumbed pretty quickly considering how fucked up his upbringing had been, but he had definitely still wasted many weeks and months _not_ trying his hardest to seduce her. If he had realised earlier, they might have had more time together.

With a tremulous hand, Draco reached out and ran his fingers across her curls. They were like rivulets of spun silk. His lips twitched up into a gentle smile that stretched his face and strained the muscles in his jaw. It must have been a very long time since he had smiled, he realised. That was why it hurt so much. But now, looking down at Hermione and seeing that cute little frown on her face that reminded him so much of how she looked when they were studying, he felt…elated. It was like a balm to his soul, standing here in her room, surrounded by her scent and watching her sleep. He had missed her so much it was like a cavern in his heart, right in the centre of his chest where a piece had broken off and splintered into sharp fragments. He wished that he could lean down and pull her into an embrace. He wondered if he held her close enough whether he could pull her back into that hole and fill it again.

"She was the one who convinced me to defend you after the war."

Draco spun around at the voice and looked a bit guiltily at Potter as the other boy rested one shoulder against the doorframe. He snatched his hand back from the bed, feeling like a child being caught with his hand in the proverbial candy jar.

"What?" he asked in a croaky voice.

"Hermione. She encouraged me to help you at your trial. She even wrote down dot points for me for what I should say to help you."

Draco blinked, staring at Potter in surprise. He hadn't known that. She had been frustratingly absent from the whole trial, and he had assumed she wanted nothing to do with him now that she had lost her memories. He felt a tightening in his chest at this new revelation.

"Really?" he asked with an embarrassing tone of hopefulness in his voice.

"Yeh," Harry said with a casual shrug, trying to seem nonchalant and failing miserably, "she thought that you were treated really poorly by the aurors, so she just walked up to me one day and demanded that I step in and do something. She was pretty annoying actually. Wouldn't stop bossing me around until I did it."

Draco felt his mouth tug up, and before he knew it he was grinning unabashedly. He moved further away from the bed towards Potter.

"I miss her bossing me around," he murmured under his breath with a little laugh. Potter chuckled as well and scratched his head.

"So come on. Tell me what happened after the two of you became friends."

"You're not bored of the story yet?"

Harry smirked and led him back into the living room. It was completely dark outside now. In the distance a rumble of thunder rolled over the apartment.

"Are you kidding? This is the most bizarre story I've ever heard. I was there the whole time and had no clue it was going on. And besides…I'll need to be able to help her when she wakes up."

"Yes you will. She probably won't want to talk to me."

Draco grimaced as he said it, but Potter clapped a hand on his shoulder with an encouraging smile.

"Let's just wait and see, alright? No use panicking about it until it happens."

Draco snorted and followed him back to the couches. He was quite pleased when Potter conjured a bottle of firewhiskey and two glasses. The Gryffindor boy was right of course. He would just have to be patient and stay calm. And besides, it was actually really nice to reminisce about the past, even if it was with Harry Potter of all people. He had obsessed about it in silence for so long, that it was a relief to get it off his chest. And he loved remembering those few precious months when they had meant something to each other. So he sat back and watched as Potter poured the golden liquid into a shot glass, allowing a smug smile to continue to linger on his lips. Even after years apart, he could still picture quite vividly the memory of becoming friends with Hermione Granger.

 **….**

 **December 24** **th** **, 1996**

Hermione couldn't help but feel like she had taken a huge step backwards with Malfoy. Something else had happened in that library to make him shut down and block her out. Their conversation had been a bit overwhelming, but had never created this kind of fallout before. She finally understood how he could come across as a good guy – as someone with passion and intelligence and wit – while also being a death eater. He was a very complex young man. And he was clearly terrified. She could only imagine the pain and fear he must feel. If an unstable maniac were threatening her parents, then she wasn't sure what she would do to keep them safe.

After all, he had been raised to look down on people like her. And now he was being told to kill the most powerful wizard alive or his parents would be tortured and killed. And she, a muggleborn, was trying to help him by…what? Making him hot chocolate and telling him to sleep? Hermione felt so inadequate. But hadn't he squeezed her hand back? He had very briefly accepted her comfort, and seemed grateful for it, even though he was still a little mean and insulting.

Hermione sighed as she put the finishing touches on his Christmas present. She put her wand down and admired the gift, hoping he wouldn't be too offended by it. Maybe it could fix whatever went wrong in the library and let him know that he could still trust her.

She hadn't heard from Harry or Ron at all since they'd left; not even a single letter. She hoped they were okay. Obviously they had other things on their mind, but it did sting a bit to be left out. With a huff of her breath she tapped her wand a few times to wrap the gift before thinking about a way to get it into his dormitory to deliver it. It was surprisingly easy, and she smiled wryly at the idea. A house elf would do the trick.

….

Draco woke early as usual. Even on Christmas Day it seemed he didn't deserve a sleep in. He had completely run out of dreamless sleep potion too. He had only been taking a small dose of Granger's vial about once a week so that he wouldn't get addicted, but now there was nothing stopping the nightmares. With a tired yawn, he stretched his limbs and went to kick off the blankets, before realising that there were in fact a couple of presents on the end of his bed that the house elves had left for him.

He rolled his eyes. He had almost forgotten it was Christmas, and everything that went with that. He reached wearily for the first one. It had dull silver wrapping with a neat bow and was clearly put together by a Malfoy house elf. Draco ripped open the paper and looked at the gift from his mother. It was a beautiful leather case that held a variety of quills that were impervious, extendable, long lasting and even invisible. The gift was clearly expensive. Draco put it to one side, shaking his head. His mother could be a very loving woman beneath her cold veneer, but she had no talent for buying personal gifts.

He frowned at the second present. Who else would have gotten him something? He had a bad feeling he knew already, but he leaned forwards and picked it up, turning it over in his fingers. It wasn't cursed or anything. He carefully opened the wrapping – a pretty blue colour with silver snowflakes. Part of him had been expecting it to be red and gold. Finally he got through the packaging and a delicate but firm item dropped out.

His mouth almost dropped open in surprise when he saw it was a sparkly piece of jewellery, the last thing he had been expecting. Turning it over in his fingers, he saw that it was actually a talisman on a chain. It was an amethyst stone, and fixed to the middle was a delicate Rune figure. Thinking back to where he remembered it from, Draco realised it meant health and wellbeing. With a suspicious frown he lifted his wand and tapped the gem.

" _Revellio_."

As soon as the magical patterns began glittering around it, Draco understood how much effort she had put into it. There were literally hundreds of webs of healing spells and general charms to help with sleeping and appetite. It was designed as a natural remedy to basically just keep him going and survive through the year. He couldn't believe it. She must have spent hours putting it together. If nothing else it was an extremely impressive feat of magic.

Draco swallowed and shook his head as he ran his fingers over the smooth stone. He had never had someone care enough about him to give him something like this. It was almost too much. His chest constricted, and he took in a shaky breath. A sudden thought crossed his mind as he felt a moment of anxiety. Was she expecting him to give _her_ something? Surely not. They weren't even friends really. Just odd sort of…friendly enemies.

Sighing, he decided to make his way to the Great Hall for breakfast. He didn't particular want to join in the festivities, but his absence would probably be noticed with so few students staying at the school. As he slowly dressed in a warm forest green jumper and trousers, he paused for a moment. His eyes flickered down to the object on his dresser. With a reluctant roll of the eyes and a wry smile, he gently picked it up and slipped it around his neck. There was no harm in giving it a go.

….

Hermione was enjoying the late Christmas dinner in the Great Hall. The other students were quite shy as they were mostly from younger years, and they talked amongst themselves. So she had been placed between Madam Pomfrey and Malfoy, the only other sixth year student. She was surprised to find that the former kept her interested with stimulating conversation most of the evening. Poppy Pomfrey was a warm and intelligent woman with a lifetime of funny stories to tell over the course of a meal. Hermione had recently thought that maybe she could be a healer when she left Hogwarts, depending on the war, so she enjoyed getting some more information out of Poppy. And if everything went south soon, then knowing more about healing could help her to keep Harry alive through whatever was coming.

Her eyes darted to her other side briefly to where Draco was sitting sullenly, eating dainty mouthfuls of the delicious turkey curry that had appeared in front of him a while ago. When he raised his eyes to meet hers, he looked a bit moody. Their strange interaction in the library was obviously still playing on his mind. But his eyes flickered downwards briefly, and Hermione saw the slightest glint of a silver chain sticking out from his collar. She flushed with pleasure. He was wearing her gift. She bestowed a soft, secretive smile on him before returning to her conversation with Poppy. Malfoy just smirked as he dug back into his meal. Maybe his appetite really had improved already.

After a while, Pomfrey turned to her other side to engage in a lively debate with Professor Flitwick, so Hermione dug into her food happily. She loved Christmas desserts in particular, and licked every morsel of pudding off her spoon with relish.

"You've really outdone yourself this time, Granger," Malfoy murmured out the corner of his mouth.

"Pardon?" she replied through a mouthful of butterscotch sauce.

"I didn't realise you were this concerned about my eating and sleeping habits."

Hermione giggled and took a sip of her pumpkin juice.

"I thought you purebloods liked people pandering to your every need."

The blond chuckled as well.

"Well if you're willing, I do have some potions homework due-"

"Don't even think about it. Harry and Ron usually _need_ my help. You are perfectly capable of doing it yourself."

"Hmmm," he hummed in response, shaking his head, "I suppose that was a compliment."

"If you say so."

They went quiet for a short pause as they both chewed their food slowly, trying not to turn to each other or make too much eye contact. It would be a bad idea for other people at the table to see them talking too warmly. Eventually, Malfoy tilted his head to the side just a fraction to lean in closer to her. This time his voice was much lower and more serious.

"Um…thanks…thank you, Granger. For the gift. I'm very…er…humbled."

Hermione was quiet for a few more minutes as she swallowed her mouthful of pudding. Then she shot him a quick, friendly smile.

"You're welcome," she paused again and had another mouthful of food before she continued in a soft murmur, "Want to meet in the library tomorrow morning to study? You can do your potions then."

"Just try and stop me, Granger."

Hermione giggled under her breath again and turned back towards Pomfrey, who was trying to tempt her with some trifle now. It seemed the holidays were suddenly looking a lot less grim.

.…

The rest of the Christmas week passed slowly but peacefully. Draco spent most of the time with Granger, which was probably not the best idea. At least with some distance between them he would have had a chance to calm down a bit and put things back into perspective. But instead she was everywhere, all around him every day. They talked and studied and argued, but it was…pleasant. Too pleasant. He kept reminding himself he needed to spend more time in the room of requirement to finish his task. He managed to find time here and there, when Granger was busy. He had also noticed her spending some time in the hospital wing with Madam Pomfrey. He had worried at first that something was wrong with her, but after overhearing a conversation about apprenticeships, he knew it was just Granger's interest in healing. He thought it suited her. She was both intelligent and compassionate and would make an excellent healer.

New Years Eve saw him standing on the top of the Astronomy tower, waiting for the Hogsmeade fireworks and pretending that he was young again. He imagined that he was not swept up in a war and fighting for his life, but young again and sneaking out to get up to mischief while his parents were busy with their extravagant parties. It had been a childish impulse to come up here, but the cool wind whipping his face and the break from his work were a welcome distraction. He had not seen Granger all day, not since breakfast. Which was unusual, because it was the most time they had spent apart all holidays. He felt a bit ashamed of the fact that he missed her after so short an absence. But when he heard the sound of soft tapping of footsteps getting louder from the stairs below him, he didn't have to turn around to know it was her. He could smell her apricot shampoo from a mile away, and he closed his eyes for a moment to take it in.

"What are you doing here, Granger?"

She slowly approached until she was leaning next to him against the turret.

"Same as you, I imagine."

"And what would that be?"

"Moping. Feeling sorry for myself."

Draco scoffed, but shook his head in amusement.

"You really like to push my buttons, Granger."

She laughed prettily, not a shrill giggle like Pansy or a booming horn like Millicent. It was a gentle sound that made him feel pleased for having brought it out of her.

"Frankly, they're not that hard to push," she joked. He turned his head towards her, and saw her blushing.

"You'd be the only person to think that," he commented, a bit surprised, "Most people find me…"

"Pretentious?" she finished innocently.

He chuckled and shook his head.

"I was going to say cold, but that will do."

She smiled softly at him and turned to look out over the grounds towards Hogsmeade where the fireworks would surely be starting soon.

"So what would you normally be doing on New Years?" she asked quietly. Draco sighed and turned around, leaning his back against the wall and looking sideways at her.

"Well…my mother has always been something of a renowned host. She throws such lavish parties and balls. But on New Years she really shines. She invites a few select powerful friends and there's always a twelve course tasting degustation, with ice sculptures that reach the ceiling. In the main hall she sets up and displays liquid gold fountains and a glittering diamond constellation on the ceiling that maps out everyone's fortunes for the next year…"

Granger started to laugh, and he turned to stare at her in surprise. She had a huge grin on her face as she watched him.

"What's so funny?" he asked suspiciously. She looked him up and down once and her mouth dropped open.

"Wait… you're serious?" she gasped.

He nodded slowly as if she was crazy, and she just laughed again, her giggles feminine and contagious.

"Sorry, I'm sorry it's just…that's so extravagant!"

Draco frowned, not sure how to feel about her teasing him.

"Well what do you normally do then?" he asked with a petulant scowl. She tossed back her head to get the curls out of her face as the wind whipped past her, and took a deep breath.

"Oh, it's not at all fancy like yours, but my mum and dad always used to drive us down to an old forest where we sometimes went camping. We would go to this hidden picnic ground and play monopoly until midnight when we'd watch the fireworks from the next town when my mum and dad would put their skates on and dance on the frozen lake with me sitting on my dad's shoulders when I was still little."

Draco shivered as she relived the memory. Honestly it sounded so warm and touching coming from her lips, which were pulled into a wistful smile. It sounded like she was very close to her parents. Her muggle parents.

"What are your parents like?" he asked in a whisper, suddenly very curious about them.

Hermione let out a deep breath, her smile widening.

"Well they're both very kind, and warm and funny…and even though my mother is kind of like my best friend, I'm really a bit of a daddy's girl."

She trailed off with a sigh, and Draco couldn't help himself; he stared at her unabashed. There was such pure joy in her face as she thought about her parents, he couldn't help but be wildly envious. Which was crazy of course. Growing up he had been given the world. He had owned every toy, and did everything he wanted. But he was also realising that maybe this muggle family had something even more valuable than all the treasure in his vault, or even the distinguished name of Malfoy. Because he suddenly remembered watching his mother's new years parties with a sad frown on his face, sitting in one corner of a grand ball room and wishing he had their attention.

Granger was looking at him strangely, and he realised he was still staring at her. He quickly turned away. She leaned towards him and bumped his shoulder with hers.

"Sorry, I got carried away," she said sheepishly, "I'm sure your mother threw wonderful parties."

Draco chuckled, shaking himself out of his melancholic mood.

"She sure did. So…er…what's monopoly?"

Granger chuckled and bit into her bottom lip.

"It's just a game we played. It's silly, really. You have this paper money, and you have to buy famous properties in London…"

Draco's ears perked up a bit and he smiled.

"Oh yeh! At the end of our first year, father bought me a townhouse in London!"

Granger stared at him with a dumbfounded look on her face.

"Wow," she stammered after a while, blinking her long eyelashes and trying hard not to laugh, "That's _nothing_ like the monopoly _I_ played…"

He watched her control her laughter as she shook her head and fell silent. She stood contemplating him for a few moments before she spoke again.

"What's your favourite colour?" she blurted,

"What?"

"Your favourite colour. If we're going to be friends then I should know a bit more about you."

Draco laughed in sheer surprise, unable to hold in his stunned amusement.

"We're going to be friends, are we?"

She nodded curtly, as if it was a done deal.

"I don't see why not."

He snorted.

"I can think of a few reasons."

"You mean the fact that you're a death eater and I'm the muggleborn best friend of Harry Potter?" she asked innocently.

"Well… that and you're incredibly bossy."

She smirked.

"All the more reason to do as I say."

Draco smiled at the sudden light-hearted banter. He wouldn't dare admit it, but he was enjoying this. After a pause where he pretended to be thinking hard, he finally spoke.

"Blue."

"What?"

"My favourite colour is blue. Keep up, Granger."

She giggled.

"Sky blue? Royal blue? Baby blue?"

"No, a deep midnight blue. Like the ocean."

She made a humming sound of appreciation.

"And you?" he asked.

"I don't want to say," she muttered, flicking her curls haughtily and turning her nose up. Draco spluttered.

"Wait a minute, that's not fair. I showed you mine, now you…"

"Fine! Fine!" she threw her hands up, exasperated. He kept his piercing eyes on her until she squirmed and spoke,

"Dark Green."

He laughed loudly.

" _Slytherin_ green?"

She shot him a withering glare.

"No! That's more of an emerald colour. I prefer deep green, like a pine tree."

Draco whistled lowly in a direct copy of hers from before.

"So I guess we really are friends now that we know each other's favourite colour," he said with a conspiratorial wink.

"Ha bloody ha."

They fell silent for another moment, but it wasn't an awkward silence. It was comfortable. In the far distance they could see the flickering of lights in Hogsmeade that signalled people were gathering together.

"So why didn't you go with your idiot friends for the holidays?"

She let out a quick little breath.

"Because I wasn't invited."

Draco frowned.

"What do you mean you weren't invited? No, let me guess, the fat ginger mummy didn't want her precious little son sleeping in the same house as his girlfriend? Too scandalous?"

Hermione turned to face him with a puzzled frown.

"What are you talking about?"

Draco huffed.

"Well for starters I'm talking about your seriously poor taste in men."

"Ron and I aren't together," she said with a scowl.

Draco felt his heart leap a little. He had honestly thought they were an item after that debacle in the hospital. The whole school had been gossiping about it. In fact, he'd been tormented by thoughts of her kissing him and letting him put his big clumsy hands on her body. To hear she was in fact single was…interesting. He knew it shouldn't matter to him at all – I mean, who gives a crap if she dates the moron, that's her mistake. But without really being able to identify why, he was suddenly savagely pleased that she wasn't with him in that way. Maybe it was tied in with his recent fantasies of her, as ashamed as he was of his more base urges. He had never liked sharing.

"Well it's not the first time the gossips have been wrong," he muttered.

Granger snorted.

"It's your fault they all think that, anyway. Ron started mumbling my name in his sleep when he was knocked out in the hospital wing."

Draco wasn't surprised. The red head clearly had a crush on her. Any blind fool could see that he was infatuated with Granger; he practically followed her around drooling. Draco just hoped that she had enough common sense to not return those feelings. They were so poorly matched for each other that it would practically be a crime for them to start dating.

"What's your favourite subject?" he asked suddenly, hoping to change the topic before they headed into dangerous territory.

"You'll laugh at me if I tell you," she said.

"All the more reason then. I could use a laugh."

She rolled her eyes and huffed out a little breath, considering him hesitantly before she spoke.

"History of Magic."

Draco stared at her like she was crazy, before he did in fact burst into laughter.

"Hey! It's not funny!"

He let his laughter die a little, but then caught the angry expression on her face and it started all over again.

"Sorry, Granger, but you're going to have to explain that one a bit more to me."

She let out an angry breath and stomped her foot petulantly.

"Look, I grew up in the muggle world, so I don't just take this world for granted. To you it's normal, but I'm naturally going to be curious about everything. And…don't you think the more we know about our past, the less likely we are to repeat it?"

Draco frowned and considered that. He supposed if more people understood the shitory behind Grindelwald then maybe there would have never been a Voldemort.

"Yeh…but Binns?"

She giggled a little.

"Yeh so he's basically a shit teacher. And he's so dull sometimes I want to fall asleep and die too. But he knows what he's talking about really, in a monotonous kind of way. And anyway, it's more the books in the library I've read, and the textbooks that I find so interesting. And sometimes I talk to Professor McGonagall about it."

"Of course you do…teacher's pet," he said with a smirk.

"Well I suppose your favourite subject is potions. How predictable."

Draco snorted.

"True, although I've actually been enjoying Arithmancy more than I thought I would this year."

Hermione's smile widened and she shared a fond look with him.

"Yes, it's been nice actually working with a partner of almost equal intelligence."

" _Almost_ equal?" he spluttered.

Then he realised she was teasing him, and he let his anger turn into a wry laugh and a disbelieving shake of the head.

"You've got a hell of a nerve, Granger."

At that moment a bang sounded in the distance and they both turned to lean on the tower's edge and watch as the fireworks began. Bursts of green and blue sparks lit up the sky, casting a glow onto their faces. Each new bang took the shape of something magnificent, from dragons to flowers and even a swan floating back and forth as it dissipated into the cold night air.

"They're so pretty!" Granger murmured next to him, her brown eyes wide and amazed by the sight before them.

"Steady on, Granger."

She just gave him a small shove and he fell silent. Despite the loud noise and violent flashing lights, it was strangely calm standing there on the top of the tower in the freezing cold with her. He felt more peaceful than he had in months.

He spent half his time watching the dazzling fireworks display, and the other half peering over at her to see her reactions. She kept making small sounds of appreciation, like humming and gasps of delight, and her hands were gripping the tower's edge. Looking down at the pale skin of her knuckles, he realised that she was covered in goose bumps. She was only wearing a thin cardigan. Without even stopping to think about it for a second, Draco removed his thick winter's cloak and draped it over her shoulders, his fingers just grazing her soft curls.

Granger turned her head towards him, a truly warm smile spreading across her face.

Merlin she was beautiful. How had he only started to notice it so recently? He was suddenly overwhelmed with the desperate urge to kiss her. Her face was flushed and her lips were swollen red from the icy wind battering the tower. In that moment it didn't seem to matter so much that he was brought up to think of her as the enemy, that she was supposed to have dirty blood and that he was meant to be better than this. Those excuses were shaky and almost completely destroyed anyway. Looking at her now, blinking up at him with her round doe eyes, he felt himself sway towards her. In some ridiculous or delusional part of his brain he supposed this is what could be considered a very cliché romantic moment.

But he knew she would never allow it. Surely she would never let a Death Eater kiss her. Unable to stop himself from at least touching her, to reassure himself that this was in fact really happening right now, he lifted a hand very slowly to her face.

Gently, as if stroking a wild horse, Draco ran the very tips of his fingers across her cheek, pushing a strand of curly hair behind her ear. His heart was pounding. When he felt how soft her skin was, despite the icy temperature he couldn't help his body from feeling suddenly very hot. He felt the skin prickling in his fingertips where he touched her and his navel clenched from the sensory overload. But Granger's face was the picture of confusion. Her brows were furrowed with a deep crease in her forehead and she was biting down hard into her bottom lip.

With a resigned smile, he let his hand drop. She looked like she was about to say something when a thud sounded behind them. They both jumped in fright and jerked apart from each other.

"What is going on here?" a smooth deep voice asked behind them. They spun around and faced a furious Severus Snape who had joined them on the top of the tower. His lips were pursed and thin and his eyes angry as he stared Draco down. Draco's heart was thudding. His mind raced, wondering how much Snape had seen; had he come in time to watch Draco stroke her face like a lover might? Merlin, he hoped not. He could only imagine what Snape thought of him just being up here with muggleborn Granger. He'd never been confident about his Godfather's loyalties, since he played his role as spy so well on both sides of the divide. But right now, in this moment, they were both for all intents and purposes devoted servants of the Dark Lord. And he had basically been caught fraternising with a mudblood.

"I think, Miss Granger, that it would be best for you to return to your dormitory for the remainder of the evening."

Granger paused for a moment, weighing up the situation, but she didn't want to get Draco into any more trouble than he was already.

"Yes Sir."

And without another glance at Draco, she left meekly, head down and fleeing as fast as her feet could carry her. Snape waited a few moments for her to leave the tower completely, and Draco felt his nerves increasing with every second.

"Have you gone completely mad?" Snape spat at him after about a minute of agitated pacing.

"It's none of your business, _Sir_ ," Draco retorted sarcastically.

Snape strode forward and basically pinned him to the edge of the tower.

"Not my business? Why you arrogant little prick. Do you have any idea what you're doing? The danger you're courting?"

"It's not what it looked like!"

The man snorted.

"It looked pretty damn bad, Draco. It looked like you were trying to seduce the muggleborn friend of Harry Potter."

"I wasn't trying to seduce her," he growled angrily, "we were just talking."

"That's worse."

"How the fuck is that _worse_?"

Snape sighed, pressing his finger to the bridge of his nose.

"The Dark Lord can understand and even forgive our baser desires, but if you actually _like_ her, if you have genuine feelings…"

"Woah, slow down, it's not like that-" he lied, gritting his teeth and avoiding Snape's knowing gaze, "We just had a conversation. You're completely overreacting."

Snape was silent for a while.

"You have a task to complete."

"I know!" he shouted, competing with the fireworks that were still booming in the background, "I will do my duty, Snape. I will honour my loyalty to the Dark Lord no matter what. I have to."

Snape looked at him with his piercing black eyes for a long time. Draco knew he was adept at legilimancy, and hoped the dark wizard saw the truth of his words, but not his raging doubts beneath. Snape just stepped closer to him after a while, a calculating look on his face.

"You always have a choice, Draco," he murmured silkily.

Draco's heart practically stopped. Those were the exact words that Granger had said to him. He wasn't sure what Snape was playing at, but he couldn't help feeling unsettled, like everything he knew was being turned on its head.

Without another word, the dour professor strode from the tower, his robes billowing and snapping out behind him like a sinister cloak of disapproval.

It wasn't until Draco shivered alone on the tower that he realised that Granger had left with his coat still on.

….

 **Another chapter down, and the friendship grows between them. Draco is starting to get it, but Hermione still needs some more time to soften up. Please leave lovely reviews for inspiration!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note: You'll have noticed I changed the date on the last chapter back to 1996 thanks to some reminders from reviewers that I was a couple of years ahead of myself! Hmm obviously I didn't do my maths right, and I should have just googled it. Anyway, I'm glad that I have all my lovely reviewers to keep me honest and on my toes :P Enjoy the new chapter and all the developments it brings. As always, JKR is a diamond in the rough.**

...

Hermione snuggled deeper under the covers, closing her eyes and releasing a deep sigh of relief. Her fingers and toes were still a little bit frozen from standing up in the icy wind on the tower watching the fireworks, so she wriggled them back and forth under the heavy blankets. Her mind was whirring with the implications of Snape catching them chatting up on the Astronomy Tower. She really hoped that it wouldn't get Malfoy into too much trouble. She knew that on some level both Snape and Malfoy needed to appear to each other as loyal followers of the Dark Lord. She yawned and nestled deeper into her pillow.

Hopefully he just scolded the blond for being out too late and for having stumbled into her. And hopefully he hadn't seen Malfoy touching her like that. That could certainly be misconstrued. Couldn't it? _She_ was certainly still trying to make sense of it. Hermione wasn't sure she could properly identify the feeling that had passed through her when he had touched her cheek gently. Or when he had chivalrously placed his coat over her shoulder to keep her warm. It had seemed so charming. Something she had never expected from the infamously self-centred prince of Slytherin. If it had been anyone else she would have considered it a romantic gesture. But that couldn't possibly be true. She was a mudblood. He would hardly like her when he was still clinging onto the fragments of his old prejudices about her dirty blood, no matter how much he appeared to have changed recently. Being friends with her was one thing, but him possibly having feelings for her was totally different. And besides, even if he could accept her blood status, they were still worlds apart. So there was simply no way he had meant to come onto her or whatever it was he had done when he stroked back her hair so gently. It must have been a mistake.

'But is it possible that I like _him?'_ She thought with a little shiver that tickled its way down her spine. Surely not. Her heart practically stopped beating altogether as she grit her teeth in a panic, her mind thrown into a state of chaos. It had felt so exciting and terrifying all at once when he had caressed her skin like that. Was her own visceral reaction trying to reveal something to her as well? Hermione lifted herself up onto her elbows a bit shakily and reached for the coat hanging off the dresser. She had accidentally left with it still on when Snape had interrupted them. Lifting the coat towards her nose, she took in a deep breath.

It smelled like him. Like parchment and mint with a hint of something musky; probably his` expensive cologne.

She shut her eyes and let the smell wash over her.

It was certainly a nice scent, you'd have to be insane not to appreciate it. But it also caused an odd clenching, hot feeling in the pit of her stomach. Did she want him? Was it possible that she was actually attracted to Draco Malfoy? There was obviously no denying that he was good looking. Half the girls in Hogwarts had a crush on him. He was slim but built with an athletic body, and was quite tall. And those steely grey-blue eyes that she had once thought were cold, well now she could probably get lost in them. When his defences were down they were actually incredibly expressive. And they were just a little bit blue. His favourite colour. She smiled fondly. Sometimes when he was annoyed he looked far too haughty and pretentious to be really attractive, because she simply couldn't see past the spoilt brat exterior. But the few times he had run his fingers tiredly over his scalp and messed up his hair, or his passion had come out of its shell during one of their many arguments, he had looked downright sexy. Hermione shut her eyes tightly and swore under her breath.

 _Shit!_

Okay, so maybe she was attracted to him. But that was fine; she was a young woman with normal interests and desires. As long as it didn't deepen into something else it would be fine. She could deal with having a friend she found objectively attractive.

A friend. She giggled at the memory of their bizarre conversation. A part of her wanted to see the dumbfounded looks on Harry and Ron's faces if she declared that Draco Malfoy was her friend. But then again, that could cause a lot of trouble. And Ron at least would probably never forgive her.

Hermione shook her head. She needed to sleep, she was starting to go mad thinking about it, and it was past two in the morning. She would have to wait and see what happened when she saw him next. And pray that he didn't pick up on any silly feelings of attraction on her face and end their friendship. Thinking back to what had happened earlier with Snape a little nervously, she just hoped that Malfoy wasn't already regretting their new friendship anyway.

….

The next time she saw him, Hermione couldn't help noticing that her heart did do a silly little flutter at the sight of the blond Slytherin. There was no denying the reaction. She definitely had butterflies.

 _Get a grip!_ Her mind screamed at itself as she clenched her hands into fists and tried to look nonchalant. She shook her head quickly to dismiss any feelings that may override her common sense. She was the brightest witch of her age, she reminded herself. She refused to turn into a Lavender Brown impersonator and act like a complete fool. Just because she had accepted that she was attracted to him didn't mean that anything had to change. As she watched him stroll towards her from her spot near the lake, she took a deep breath and crushed the butterflies with one mental stroke, wrapping her cloak tighter round herself as a guard against any unwanted desires.

After walking into a nearly empty hall at lunch, Hermione had grabbed a sandwich from the table and decided to take advantage of the surprisingly clear weather outside to eat it down on the grassy, or now snowy, knoll near the edge of the lake. The fluffy, perfectly fallen snow around her was cold but the sky was blue and she had found a quaint little rocky platform to perch herself on.

She had even levitated some scraps of bread into the water, where the splashing of grindylows showed it was appreciated. The water was still a bit slushy in this spot where the lake hadn't completed frozen over. Hermione had been watching it in a thoughtful daze for about half an hour before he found her, in between short bouts of reading when she was able to focus.

Malfoy had clearly spotted her down there and decided to take a stroll in her direction. He was probably curious as to why she was sitting idly out there by herself on a snowy day, even if it was clear skies all around. He finally reached her, his hands shoved in his pockets as he shuffled awkwardly nearby. Well, as awkward as he _could_ look; Malfoy seemed to have an innate sense of unruffled elegance, and it was only because she had begun to read him better recently that she could tell he was nervous.

"I didn't get to tell you Happy New Years last night!" she said with a smile, pushing aside any other anxieties she had about him. He was her new friend, after all, and she was smart enough to at least try to compartmentalise her confused feelings.

"I wouldn't go so far as to call it happy," he sneered, though it lacked its usual bite. Her smile only widened as she leaned back against the tree behind her.

"Well aren't you in a good mood!"

Malfoy snorted and dropped down gracefully next to her, leaning back on his hands, legs stretched out casually in front of him.

"Let's just say I'm not looking forward to the coming year," he drawled.

"What's your resolution?"

"Excuse me?"

Hermione chuckled, always forgetting that the wizarding world just didn't understand sometimes.

"It's a muggle tradition. At new years you have to make a resolution about something you're going to do, or change. Some people resolve to exercise more, be healthier or read more books…"

"What's yours?"

She smiled fondly as she looked over the lake.

"Well I suppose I could lose some more weight around the thighs…" she quipped with a sarcastic laugh.

"Don't be ridiculous," he scoffed, and she blushed a little at the implication that he found her curves just fine as they were,

"…but I'll probably resolve to work harder to complete a pre-med training course in healing. That seems like a good goal to work towards given… everything."

Malfoy nodded, visibly impressed with her determination.

"Ok, your turn!" she said in a sing-song voice that made him send her a mocking glare. He stared at the lake thinking hard about it for so long that Hermione wondered if he'd forgotten about her, until he spoke up softly.

"To survive."

They avoided each other's eyes for quite a while, both a little embarrassed at his frankness. Then Hermione brightened up, trying to liven the mood.

"Well let's put this into perspective then… I'm resolved to learn healing, and you're resolved to survive. It's quite convenient when you think about it."

He finally lifted his head and smirked.

"I'm not going to be your guinea pig, Granger," he teased.

Even so, his hand, which he'd raised to slick through his hair, paused for a moment on the necklace she'd given him. Her resolution was already helping him. She laughed at his taunt.

"I _really_ want to make a comment about using ferrets instead of guinea pigs, but we're friends now so I would never do that!" she said with mock innocence.

Malfoy glared at her.

"Stupid Moody," he muttered angrily.

Her mischievous grin spread even wider.

"Well actually, it turned out he was on _your_ side in the end!"

Malfoy frowned, his eyes narrowing at her.

"Of course he was. Fucking crazy," he said bemused.

She nodded.

"That seems to be a common theme with your lot."

He gave a strange, choked laugh.

"You have no idea."

They looked at each other in shared amusement for a moment, then burst into laughter, Hermione's light giggling sound bounced off the lake, While Malfoy gave a wry chuckle and he shook his head. As his normally severe face broke out into the unexpected smile, Hermione felt that strange flutter again. He might just be her friend, but he was devastatingly handsome when he smiled.

"So…um…have you finished all your homework for the holidays?" she stammered.

"Seriously?" he asked with a raised brow, before shaking his head, "Alright, _yes_ little bookworm, I have done everything. There's not much else to do in this place when it's abandoned. Even with _you_ distracting me in the library every day."

"Would you like to help me brew blood replenishing potion tonight?" she blurted, not considering the consequences, "Madam Pomfrey is almost out, and it makes up part of my credit points for preliminary healing…"

Draco looked at her thoughtfully for a moment, before he gave her a lop-sided, casual smile.

"Sure why not? It's either that or bore to death."

She glared at him.

"Well you don't have to be so enthusiastic," she bit out.

Draco chuckled.

" _Fine!_ It would be the absolute highlight of my week! I am honoured just to be asked."

She laughed too and looked at him curiously.

"Hmm…I think I might prefer you being maudlin. That was just…weird."

They were both giggling as they rose and made their way back to the empty castle.

Hermione snuck into the hospital wing quietly and made her way to the back room where Madam Pomfrey often brewed healing balms and potions. She didn't want to draw too much attention to herself. Poppy was fine, but any other teachers would no doubt keep a very close eye on her and ask suspicious questions if she were seen consorting with Malfoy. She shucked off her robes and jumper and rolled her sleeves up above her elbows. Then she made sure the few loose strands from her braid were pinned up and out of her face.

When she had prepared herself and brought water to the boil in her cauldron, she heard the door creak open and a blonde head peaked in.

"Granger," he said with a smirk, "Fancy seeing you here."

"Such a coincidence," she replied, smiling.

He came over and perched no the stool next to her, looking over the meticulously organised table she had set up.

"Alright, then, what can I do to get this thing over with?"

She ignored the barb, and just shook her head, pushing over a tray of ingredients and a sheet of instructions as she began stirring in the dragon bile. Malfoy started working efficiently next to her. They synchronised their actions perfectly as they were brewing, just like in arithmancy. Usually she was partnered in potions with Harry, so it was a nice change. She loved Harry, but he could be such a scatterbrain.

"So what made you decide you wanted to be a healer?" Malfoy asked after a short break in which they were just chopping roots. Hermione sighed and added a counter clockwise stir for good measure.

"Well I considered a few options. The Office for Magical Law Enforcement was tempting. I like the idea of seeking justice without having to throw your wand around. And regulation of magical creatures intrigued me as well, because there is such a supremacist attitude towards a lot of minorities that I'm interested in. But…at the end of the day, they are very much _government_ jobs. I don't want to be a paper pusher. I want to work _with people_ , you know, actually helping them and interacting with them in a meaningful way."

Malfoy was still cutting up his ginger roots even though his eyes were practically locked on her. She couldn't quite pinpoint what he was feeling as he stared, he just looked a bit bemused.

"It sounds perfect for you," he finally admitted, "A lot of intelligence and powerful magic, years of study, and a certain level of Gryffindor self-righteousness. "

She giggled as he passed her the first round of chopped ingredients.

"What about you?" she asked curiously, "What's your plan after school? I mean…outside your other…duties."

She blushed a dark red and hoped he wouldn't snap at her for mentioning – albeit in a roundabout way – his connection to the death eaters and Voldemort.

He seemed to shrug off the reference and sighed.

"Well, I'll be expected to take over the family business. Malfoy Enterprises is a national corporation and typically the male head of our family runs the board."

Hermione looked at him closely. He was speaking in a trained, almost monotone way, and she frowned.

"Okay," she said slowly, "but what do you _want_ to do?"

His eyes flicked up to hers and he almost lost his grip on his knife.

"What makes you think I _wouldn't_ want to be one of the richest business men in the magical community?"

Hermione snorted,

"You mean despite your obvious enthusiasm?" she retorted sarcastically.

Draco paused what he was doing and stared at her angrily.

"So?" she pushed gently, shooting him a reassuring smile.

He let out a deep breath and his shoulders slumped a little as he went back to chopping a little too aggressively.

"I wouldn't mind being a curse-breaker," he murmured, "My cousin Tiberius worked in Nepal and he's told me such wonderful stories of the work there. I'd love to work in Ireland in the dragon breeding mines or something. It uses potions as well as a knowledge of dark curses and defences, and even arithmancy and runes."

Hermione stared at him for a long moment, until he raised his eyes to her.

"What?" he asked nervously.

She gave him a weak, lop-sided smile.

"Nothing. It's just… that really suits you."

Draco flushed a bit and smiled before he leaned over the cauldron and began to drop in spleens one at a time between each second stir she made. The potion slowly turned a light pink.

"It doesn't matter, anyway," he said in a low, sour voice, "It's not like I have a choice."

Hermione snorted and bumped his shoulder. She felt warm at the little contact between them.

"You always have a choice," she said with a smug smile, mimicking her own words from earlier. He laughed and gently bumped her back, as added one counter clockwise stir through the potion, turning it a darker red.

"Bloody Gryffindors," he grumbled, but she just smiled.

….

Draco tried desperately to keep his eyes on the pages of his book, but the haze of tears blurred his vision so badly he kept having to return to the start of the paragraph. He furiously wiped them away, grinding his teeth together as he cursed his own weakness.

His mind kept tormenting him by going back to the letter sitting on his dresser in the dormitory. The letter from his father. Lucius was begging him to finish his task more quickly, pleading with him to hurry up and honour the Dark Lord with this responsibility. Draco didn't have to read very far between the lines to see that his parents were suffering as a result of his slow progress. His father was a broken man, and had been for a very long time, but the way the shaky handwriting was scribbled haphazardly over the page made Draco truly afraid for the man's sanity. And Merlin only knew what was happening to his mother…

With a muffled, pained sob, he tried to shake his head and distract himself with reading. He had grabbed every book on vanishing charms and apparition wards that he could find in the library and was holed up in their alcove trying so hard to concentrate. He needed to devour every single one of these books and figure out something to do. He had never felt more helpless in his life. The students would be returning soon, and he hadn't achieved as much as he would like in their absence. Of course, he could always blame his distraction on spending so much time with Granger, but that just seemed wrong too. He _liked_ being around her, more than he was really willing to admit. He loved the way she made him feel, like he was actually worth something, and not just a pawn or a spoilt brat.

As if he had summoned her with his yearning thoughts alone, he heard the soft scuffling of feet nearby and raised his head to stare at her. A part of him was horrified. Granger was peering around the corner of the nearby shelves, watching him with undisguised concern. She had obviously been there long enough to see him weeping, and he felt himself flush with embarrassment. But at the same time, he also appreciated the obvious worry and compassion on her face. She cared about him. She was visibly upset that he was upset.

He tried to give her a shaky, self-deprecating smile to appease her, but it cracked under the weight of her anxious stare. Draco felt his heart skip a few beats before thundering in his chest as she stepped closer and approached him. She was acting like he was a wild animal, and she didn't want to spook him lest he run away from her.

It was so fucked up.

He was fighting alongside the people who wanted to kill her. They wanted to wipe this girl and anyone like her from the face of the earth. And she was so much better than him. As he looked into her soulful brown eyes, blinking up at him with a tinge of mesmerising gold in their depths, he clenched his fists in fury and despair. He didn't deserve her compassion. If he did finally end up murdering Dumbledore, she would despise him. And he would feel every inch of her hatred and more like a dagger to his gut. He tried to picture her face contorting into an expression of disgust and fury, but he couldn't imagine it.

When Draco felt a soft hand placed flat on his back in a soothing gesture, another rictus of misery gripped him. He shook his head numbly and felt more pathetic, useless tears drip down his cheeks. Why couldn't he stop them? He was so ridiculously attracted to this girl, but here he was blubbering like an infant. It wasn't exactly the charming or debonair image he was trying to cultivate.

When his body shuddered again, she leaned forwards to rest her cheek on his shoulder as her hand stroked his back gently.

There was no point in refusing her comfort now. He had gone too far into dangerous territory, and he most definitely already looked weak in her eyes. So he accepted it. Draco let his body relax as he nestled his head near her neck. He could hear her murmuring something calming, but he didn't really register any of the words in his brain. It didn't matter anyway. There was nothing she could say to wipe the guilt and worry from his mind, about his parents, about Dumbledore, about _her_.

So he just returned her embrace firmly, seeking the warmth of her body as a way of soothing his aching muscles, tensed from fear and exhaustion. This close, the smell of her shampoo was nearly overwhelming, and his body shivered again for very different reasons. Granger just stroked his back gently and moved their bodies so that they were rocking slightly, like one would do to a baby to get it to stop being restless. He let out a sound between a sob and a laugh, but just squeezed her tighter. There was a certain reassurance in the motions.

"Draco?"

He felt himself jolt a bit in her arms at the sound of his name, and he clasped her back with an iron grip. He hadn't realised that something so simple as his first name would sound so magnificent coming from her lips. He just hummed in response, his voice too croaky to speak.

"I'm so sorry. I wish there was more I could do to help you."

Draco shook his head numbly against that smooth bit of skin that connected her neck and shoulder.

"You've already done more than you realise," he said in a hoarse voice, and he felt her sigh with relief. Her breath tickled his hair and stirred some emotions buried deep inside him. Draco just grit his teeth and turned his head to the side, accepting her embrace quite happily now and wondering how long he could draw comfort from her before it became too awkward or they would be at risk of being found by someone.

….

When the other students started returning, Hermione mourned the loss of the peaceful sanctuary that Hogwarts had become over the Christmas break. She was looking forward to seeing her friends, but would miss the chance to study without being harassed, or not having to help them with their homework. And of course she would miss being able to spend so much time freely with Malfoy. It had been wonderful actually connecting with someone on an intellectual level, and he really _got_ her. She didn't have to sit there and listen to subjects that only he enjoyed, and she didn't have to edit her speech to keep him engaged. With Harry and Ron, as much as she dearly loved them, she was constantly censoring what she said so that they would understand and be interested. Her and Malfoy just clicked. And she had been surprised to discover that he had a truly wicked sense of humour. All his sneering and posturing and sarcasm were actually quite funny when they were used properly and not just to insult people.

Her heart raced a bit faster when she remembered the encounter between them in the library just two days ago. He had been distraught, and she had been so completely uncertain about how to act. But when he had raised his eyes to look at her, and had looked so desolate, she had jumped into action without even thinking. And even though he had clearly been struggling with his emotional distress, it had been sort of nice to hold him close.

Eventually they had parted when the sound of Madam Pince bustling around near them had ripped them from their peaceful little bubble. Malfoy had murmured an apology and had bolted from the alcove like he was being chased. But when they saw each other at dinner later, he had given her a sheepish smile and tucked into his food with gusto. She was relieved. She had been half-expecting him to freak out again and not speak to her for a while. Maybe she really was melting that cold exterior.

Hermione shook her head and watched the people arriving from the train with polite interest. When Harry entered the Great Hall with a cute little smile, clearly happy to see her, she ran to him and threw her arms around him with a laugh. He returned her hug enthusiastically.

"It's good to see you, Mione! Did you manage to survive the holidays?"

"Oh it wasn't too bad," she said, pulling back with a smile.

"Sorry I didn't really write much," he said shyly, a flush on his face as he rubbed the back of his neck.

"That's ok…you were _distracted,_ " she said knowingly, and Harry just smirked, looking a bit embarrassed as his eyes darted over to Ginny. The fiery redhead gave them both a cheeky wave and moved off towards the common room, sending a couple of longing looks back towards him as she went.

Hermione laughed again. She really had missed Harry. He was like her little brother, and as much as he often infuriated her, she loved him dearly. With a small shove of his shoulder to snap him out of his Ginny-staring-trance, she took his hand and they walked together out to the grounds to wander around the lake and catch up.

"Where's Ron?" she asked, trying not to sound too obvious, even though she was curious to see what new drama her friend had in store for her now. Harry sighed.

"Won-won was grabbed by Lavender the moment he came through the gates. She obviously arrived earlier."

Hermione rolled her eyes. Harry looked at her with his eyes narrowed.

"You don't seem to care that much…"

She just shrugged and continued walking, kicking some pebbles casually.

"Mione, I thought you and Ron were…sort of…keen on each other-"

She laughed at the red, mortified look on Harry's face and knew he was extremely uncomfortable talking about it.

"I dunno. I thought for a little while that maybe I had feelings for him, but…it's become so complicated."

"Hmm…tell me about it. I'm such an idiot for not realising sooner what was right under my big ugly nose."

Hermione knew he was referring to Ginny, who was still dating Dean Thomas, much to Harry's disappointment. The girl had loved him for so long without him really noticing her, and now he was paying the price.

"Oh, Harry," she said with a warm smile, taking his hand, "Your nose is perfectly small and adorable."

Harry let out a deep breath of air and threw his arm around her shoulder.

"Thank Merlin! I was so worried about it."

She giggled at their strange conversation.

"Did you expect Ron and me to get together?"

Harry frowned and thought about it for a while, scratching his head distractedly.

"Well, I've been really worried that the two of you would get together, then you'd have a big messy fight about something stupid and break up, and I'd be caught in the middle."

Hermione laughed and gave Harry a patronising pat on the back.

"Don't worry, Chosen One. You're stuck with _both_ of us no matter what."

"Well thank goodness one of you is so smart. I honestly think Ron will just self-destruct if he has to endure too much girl-drama."

Hermione sighed, thinking of her own muddled feelings for Draco.

"Let's just hope that he doesn't end up marrying Lav-Lav. That's one wedding I don't really want to be part of."

Harry nodded with a smirk.

"Oh don't worry about that. I don't think he can stand much more of her – apparently the endless snogging is just not worth it."

They shared a look, then both burst into laughter, the sound ringing over the lake and grounds.

….

"What's your patronus, Granger?"

Draco was getting bored in Arithmancy, as they'd finished their work a few minutes early. He leaned a tad closer to whisper to her. They were supposed to be friends, right? So he could ask her personal questions and show an interest in her life without looking like some romantic fool. She looked over at him and frowned.

"…Why?" she asked slowly.

"Friends share deep secrets, remember?" he responded with a roguish smile. She narrowed her eyes at him for another moment, before her lips cracked into a smirk at his wide-eyed curiosity.

"Lutra," she whispered back.

"What the bloody hell is that? Some kind of insect?"

Granger giggled quietly, not wanting to draw attention to them. Vector was busy moving around the desks, and everyone seemed to be deeply involved in their work, murmuring together in pairs and hurrying to finish.

"It's Latin. For otter."

"An _otter_?"

She raised an elegant eyebrow.

"Why? What did you expect?"

"I dunno, maybe a lioness or something. Aren't otters extremely tame for wild creatures?"

He saw Granger give a little flush of pleasure at him guessing she would have a lioness. He wasn't sure if she thought he was trying to insult her Gryffindor sensibilities, but she looked strangely flattered.

"Yes, Malfoy," she answered in a condescending tone, "they're extremely gentle animals, and they only have one mate and spend their whole lives building safe homes for their families."

"How quaint."

She turned to smirk at him.

"They can also be extremely aggressive and dangerous when their territory is threatened."

Draco gave her a long, considering look while she waited for his response.

"It suits you," he finally said.

Granger just smiled and nodded.

"What about yours?"

His heart skipped a little. He had never tried his patronus, he wasn't even sure he had a happy enough memory to do it, or if the dark mark would even let him.

"No idea," he said, clenching his fist.

Granger's eyes followed the movement, eyeing his left forearm and guessing the direction of his thoughts. He could tell she knew what he had been thinking.

"Well if I were to choose one for you…"

"Here we go. Let me guess…Snake?"

She frowned and shook her head,

"Actually I was thinking along the lines of a dragon, because of your name. Among other things…"

Draco smiled at that. That sounded pretty good, actually.

"Or a cockroach," she continued, with a teasing smile. Draco gave her a withering glare, but her smile just widened.

"Miss Granger? Mister Malfoy?"

Their heads spun around and they realised with a little embarrassment that the rest of the class had started packing up to leave while they were chatting.

"Oh sorry," Granger stuttered quickly, "We're just finished."

They quickly packed up and left the room, trying to avoid the knowing look that Vector was shooting their way. And for once with no one else around they actually walked side by side towards the Great Hall for lunch. There wasn't really any way to avoid it, short of one of them purposefully slowing down. So they just walked together until something or someone interrupted them. The silence was comfortable, though, and Draco was oddly happy for a moment. It seemed like such a normal thing to do, just walk with someone to lunch. Their conversations were normally so secluded and secretive.

And he particularly liked the gentle sway of her hips the couple of times he dropped behind her to go through doors or staircases.

As they neared the hall and heard the roaring sound of hundreds of excited voices, Granger turned her body slightly towards him, tucking her hair behind her ears and smiling.

"Well…bye," she said softly.

"Bye," he whispered, feeling a bizarre constricting sensation in his chest as she turned and walked hurriedly away and into the hall, arms weighed down with books. He couldn't quite identify why it had him unsettled, but it also wasn't exactly a bad feeling. As he entered the hall a few paced behind her, he felt the skin on the back of his neck prickle uncomfortably. He raised his eyes to the head table, and saw Snape sitting there, his dark expression glittering with suspicion and fury. He could instantly read the look on his godfather's face, and shivered slightly. The older man was right of course; this was getting more and more dangerous by the day.

….

 **Another chapter down! Thank you to all my lovely reviewers who say something every chapter. You always get me thinking about what to write next! I appreciate the input. Until next time!**


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note: Welcome back from your holiday break. Merry Christmas and hope you enjoy this new chapter. As always, JKR is a festive treat!**

It was a lot harder to spend time with Granger now that school had started up once more. They still had their arithmancy lessons of course, but Draco had gotten so used to spending his days with her in the library over the Christmas holidays that he actually missed her now that they had to sneak around again. She had come up with a few clever charms to make their alcove in the library more private, and that seemed to be enough to keep people away in the evenings after dinner. There was a charm that made people distracted as they approached, and another that muffled the sound of their voices.

Draco was fixated on his vanishing cabinet now. He needed to get it done quickly so that he could save his parents from any further suffering at the hands of Voldemort and his more zealous followers. Every so often he was tempted to ask Granger for help on a tricky spell, or to perfect his charms that would repair some of the issues he was having with the stupid thing. But then he would groan and immediately regret the thought. He had to do this without her. If she helped him fulfil his task in any way and then discovered she had taken part in the murder he was supposed to be preparing for, then it would destroy her. And he couldn't do that to her. It would be better if she just despised him in the end.

It was Thursday evening and he was waiting for her to arrive in the library. Draco was sick of working on the cabinet tonight. He had reached a dead end and needed more to time think through the problem. So instead he had retreated to their alcove to await his favourite part of the day when he would get to spend time with Granger. And if he just happened to run his fingers through his hair a bit self-consciously to make sure it was sitting right, well then that was surely just a normal gesture of habit. It wasn't like he was trying to impress her or anything…

Draco snorted at himself and shook his head.

Normally all he needed to attract girls was his typical smug smile and his Malfoy fortune. Plenty of girls at school were willing to fawn all over him in the hope that they might get his attention. But not Hermione Granger. He was at a bit of a loss as to how he could become more desirable to her. She didn't seem to care about the usual qualities that other girls liked. Mostly his family connections and good looks.

Okay, so maybe he was willing to admit that he wanted her to want him. Despite all the complications going on, and all the reasons _not_ to, Draco was inexorably drawn to the Gryffindor Princess. It was pointless to deny it. Somehow, in the process of becoming friends with Granger, his stupid fantasies had deepened into something so much more terrifying. He didn't just wake up flushed and sweating from dreams in the night that delivered a sharp spearing heat through the pit of his stomach. He wanted _more._ He wanted to know everything about her, and share himself in return. He wanted to make her smile and laugh, and hold her hand in front of crowds of people without being judged or putting either of them in mortal danger. He hated Harry fucking Potter for being so close to her and getting to show off a friendship that made him sick with jealousy. He despised Ron Weasley for even hoping he could date her.

Draco looked down at his watch impatiently. It was getting late. Why wasn't she here? There was only another half an hour before curfew and he hadn't seen her all day. He had checked the prefect patrol roster and she definitely hadn't been scheduled for tonight. And as far as he knew, there wasn't anything happening in the common room or extra credit for a teacher. She would have told him if there had been other plans. But he hadn't heard from her.

Draco drummed his fingers on the desk, not even bothering to pretend he was reading or try to distract himself. He scowled at the shelves of tomes around him as if they were prison bars keeping her out.

Where the bloody hell was she?

With only ten minutes until curfew he finally let out a huff of air and packed up his belongings. His movements were brusque and a little more violent than necessary. She had better have a damn good reason for not turning up, he thought with a petulant grimace.

Deciding to risk being seen, and ignoring the fact that he was being a bit of an irrational stalker, he started to creep towards the Gryffindor common room. He ascended the stairs quietly, keeping to the shadows in case anyone came past. He was hoping to catch Granger just before she turned in, if she was indeed busy somewhere else in the school.

Draco didn't have to wait long. He heard the voices long before they came upon him. When he recognised Weasley and Potter speaking, he quickly ducked into a small corridor that ran off the main staircase. He listened to them approaching, feeling a bit creepy lurking in the shadows and watching her. Maybe he had actually gone mad.

"I'm telling you, Harry, the Cannons are gonna have a huge comeback next season!"

"You say that every year."

"But this time it's true. McDonald is the new keeper, they poached him from the Griffins!"

"They still have the worst seeker in the competition, Ron."

"Oh come on, that ref was totally biased against him last match."

Draco watched cautiously as they walked past his hiding place. He saw the two morons engaged in their debate about quidditch and rolled his eyes. Trailing a few steps behind them was Granger. His stomach fluttered a bit uncomfortably when he saw her. She was trailing behind them with her head buried in a book, frowning in concentration and chewing her bottom lip.

After the oblivious twins had passed him, he reached out one hand and tapped Granger on the shoulder. Her head shot up with a small gasp and her eyes darted around to look at the source of the touch. She immediately saw the highlights of his blond hair in the dark passageway, and her eyes widened in surprise.

He saw that she was about to open her mouth to offer an excuse to her friends, like needing to run back to the library, but then her eyes narrowed at them. They hadn't even noticed that she had stopped. They were so wrapped up in their conversation that they quite blindly walked ahead until they were slipping through the portrait of the fat lady and disappearing from sight without noticing whether or not she was following them. Granger tutted a bit and shook her head in annoyance.

Draco just smirked and grabbed her arm again. He tugged her into the corridor and directed her up against the wall behind him, pressing her against the cold stone.

"Draco!" she squealed a bit in surprise at his manhandling, but he shushed her with a wave of his hand and she grimaced in apology.

"Do you want the whole of Gryffindor tower coming out to save you from the big bad Slytherin?" he murmured with a mischievous smile.

"That depends…" she whispered back, looking him up and down, "Why are you here?"

"You didn't come to the library," he said with a pout, knowing that he sounded like a spoilt child, but not really knowing how else to express his unhappiness that she had abandoned him this evening. Granger's eyes widened a bit and she blinked her long lashes a few times as she thought quickly.

"Wait…had we arranged to meet tonight to study? I didn't think we had any projects due…?"

Draco released the breath he was holding and leaned into the wall close to her, feeling stupid.

"No, we didn't make any plans as such," he ran his hand through his hair nervously as he stammered, "We just usually meet up there, don't we? I was waiting for you."

Granger blinked again, and dropped her gaze to the floor.

"Oh," he watched as she bit her lip and peered up at him guiltily, "I'm so sorry, Draco, I ended up swapping prefect duties to do rounds with Ernie McMillan, because Ron said he had to go to a special practice session for next week's match, and then I met up with them at the end of duty, and I had to wait like half an hour for them in the entrance hall because Harry forgot his broom…"

Draco felt his shoulders relax a bit as he listened to her ramble. He had been really put out that she hadn't turned up to the library, in fact he'd been pretty furious. But now he was feeling a bit sheepish. He shouldn't have reacted so immaturely over something so silly. His face reddened a bit in embarrassment as he held up a hand to stem her yammering excuses.

"It's alright, Granger. I'm not angry."

"You're not?" she asked, her brows raised in surprise. She looked sceptical.

"Alright," he huffed, "So I was a bit peeved you didn't show, but I do understand."

Granger smiled prettily and shuffled her feet. A slightly awkward silence fell between them and Draco struggled for what to say. Sitting in the library he had thought of a million things he wanted to tell her, but now that he had cornered her and pushed her into a dark corridor, he was at a loss. It all seemed so unimportant now. Eventually he sighed and rubbed his nose self-consciously as he looked back up at her.

"So…uh…how was your day?"

Granger stared at him curiously, a smile tugging at her lips.

"My day was alright. How was _your_ day?" she replied a bit dryly, her expression clearly showing how strange she found the conversation.

"Fine," he replied with a quick nod before they fell silent again.

He watched her carefully from beneath the hair flopping over his eyes from when he had messed it up with nerves. She was breathing a little quickly, and almost looked like she wanted to sink through the wall behind her.

"Listen," he began, shuffling his feet, "You should know that Snape is on the warpath this week. He's just looking for an excuse to give you detention."

Granger smiled softly and tilted her head towards him.

"Thanks for the warning. I will try my hardest not to be an insufferable know-it-all in class."

Draco smirked.

"Impossible."

Granger gave him a little shove as she scoffed, but he caught her hand and tugged her a bit closer, his expression serious. She shivered a bit and looked up at him with those brown eyes that trapped him completely, drawing him in and making him feel a bit dizzy.

"You promise you'll come tomorrow night?"

Her eyebrows furrowed a bit in confusion, but eventually she nodded her head.

"Ok, I promise."

Draco was reluctant to let go of her hand and watch her walk away. He was breathing too quickly, and every time he inhaled he could smell her shampoo. His fingers were tingling from holding onto her soft skin. He lowered his head a bit to look more closely at her. Her chest was rising and falling rapidly too, and she was staring at him like a frightened doe. But as he watched her, he noticed the exact moment when her eyes flickered down for just the briefest moment to look at his lips. Draco shuddered and couldn't stop his body's instinctive reaction. He leaned forwards and pressed her body back into the wall more snugly. She let out a little gasp that sounded adorable, and he felt the next puff of air leave her lips and land on his cheek like a caress.

He was going to kiss her. It was surging up inside him powerfully. He so badly wanted to press their lips together and taste her. Drac's eyes flickered downwards and watched with an almost inaudible groan as she licked her lips in anticipation.

"Hermione?"

He let out the breath he was holding and cursed silently as Potter's curious voice rang across the tower into the cramped corridor they were occupying. The boy had obviously wondered – a little belatedly – where his friend was, and had stuck his head back out the portrait to check. Draco chuckled madly, wanting to punch something, preferably Potter's stupid ugly face. He leant his forehead against the cold stonewall behind Granger's shoulder, feeling her body jolt beneath him as she registered her friend's presence just around the corner.

"Fuck," he swore quietly, angrily, right next to her ear, and he enjoyed the resulting shiver it produced in her body.

"I should go," she whispered shakily, retracting herself from where she had been standing unsteadily between him and the wall. He watched as she quickly straightened her hair and clothes and left their little space, looking shaken, but still as confident as ever.

"Sorry, Harry, I was just making sure I had all my books with me. I thought maybe I'd left one of them-"

"-in the library," Potter interrupted with a chuckle, "Yeh. You know, you should just sleep there. Why bother coming back at all? I can ask Madam Pince if you like…"

Draco listened in frustration as Potter teased her, and heard the thunk of the portrait fall into place as they disappeared inside. He banged his head softly against the stone a few more times. He had been so close to acting out one of his most thrilling fantasies of late. He wanted to taste Hermione so badly that he was going mental just seeing her in class and around school. He wanted to kiss those perfect, red lips and see if it was even better than what his fevered imagination produced every night. Would she make more of those little gasping sounds? He shuddered at the sensory memory of how her panting breaths had felt falling rapidly onto the skin of his cheek. And best of all, she hadn't pushed him away or freaked out. She hadn't exactly thrown herself at him or anything, but neither had she slapped him or looked disgusted. It was a start, at least.

Pushing off the wall, Draco rubbed his hands over his face and swore again. It looked like it would be another long, sleepless night for him.

….

Hermione was looking over at Harry with concern. He seemed fixated on the other side of the potions classroom, and she shivered as she realized the intent stare he was directing towards the blond Slytherin. He was angry, and she was starting to get worried. Harry was dangerous when he lost his temper. Had he seen something last night? Did he suspect that there was something going on between her and Draco?

Hermione felt her heart skip as she gripped the knife she was using to cut up ingredients. There definitely _was_ something strange and confusing going on with Malfoy. What had happened last night… well she wasn't really sure how to explain it. She had been so sure that he was about to kiss her right before Harry had emerged from the common room and interrupted them. Her mind kept replaying the moment over and over again, taunting her with images of what might have come next if they hadn't been disturbed.

Looking back at her friend, she saw Harry chopping ingredients far too violently as he glared at the back of Malfoy's head. He had been perfectly nice to her all morning, so maybe it wasn't what she feared.

Actually, thinking about it now, she suddenly remembered with a sinking feeling that she had seen him talking to Katie Bell earlier between classes. The seventh year girl had been released from hospital and had returned to classes today. And Harry had quizzed her over what she could recall from the day she had been cursed. Hermione pursed her lips and tried to concentrate on the potion while still keeping one eye sharply on her friend. But she was on edge for the rest of the lesson. Her eyes kept darting between Harry and Malfoy and hoping that her friend would at least pause to consider the consequences before confronting the Slytherin or acting foolishly.

When Slughorn announced the end of the lesson, Hermione tried to pack up quickly, but her books were too big too fit neatly into her bag and it took her longer than she'd wanted to sort it out.

By the time she left the dungeons, both Harry and Draco had disappeared.

 _Damnit…_

She raced up the stairs as fast as she could, sensing that something was wrong. She didn't want her best friend to do anything stupid, and when he was upset or angry he had a tendency not to think. It took her a little while to try and figure out where they had gone. She spun around in a wide circling, pacing back and forth and cursing herself, until finally by some fluke she heard a distant clunking sound. It was coming from Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. Hermione dashed around the corner and into the bathroom.

What she saw made her heart clench and she froze as she took it in.

The sinks were smashed in and water was spilling all over the floor in muddy pools. Draco was cowering on the floor behind one of the stalls, his wand pointed around the corner as he fired spells. Harry was behind another stall, looking crazy enough to murder someone. The only sound that Hermione could hear over the pounding of her own furious heart was their screaming as they yelled insults at each other. With a shaky hand, she clenched her wand tighter inside the pocket of her robes and stepped forwards.

….

Draco grit his teeth as a shard of wood flew near his face.

"Is that the best you can do, Potter?"

He heard Harry panting and coughing from the rain of fine powder that showered down from the wall. The other boy yelled loudly over the sound of the spraying pipes.

"I know you're the one who cursed her, Malfoy."

Another spell flew his way and he was forced to roll out from his hiding spot. Potter rounded the corner too and they stood facing each other in the centre of the room, wands poised in sweaty, shaky hands poised for their next spells.

"NOOO!"

Draco spun to the side as Hermione's voice echoed in the dusty bathroom. She entered the fray at a run to stand directly in front of Harry with her arms outstretched.

" _No_ , Harry-"

"Get out of my way, Hermione!"

Potter went to shove her to one side. He was so mad he barely looked at her as he pushed her aside with one hand and gripped his wand with the other. Draco saw red when Potter manhandled Granger out of the way. He instantly threw a silent curse at the wanker, knocking him back with a stinging hex.

"Fuck you, Potter-"

Potter instantly stood up from where he had ended up sprawled and went to throw another spell, but Hermione got in his way again.

"Stop, Harry _please_! You'll get in so much trouble!"

"I don't care! He's a death eater, Hermione! He hexed Katie."

She tried to grab his hands and lower his wand, but after a short struggle he pushed her away roughly. Granger landed on her back and skidded away a little.

Without pausing for a second, Potter hurled another hex at him, but Draco blocked it easily. His eyes darted briefly to the side to check that she was okay, before he was forced to give all his attention to casting shield charms. Potter got more and more angry when his spells didn't find purchase, and Draco watched in frustration as the boy took a couple of steps further towards him, pushing him backwards. Not that he wasn't able to hold his own. He was throwing one or two good ones of his own back, but was suddenly very conscious of the fact that Hermione was in the room and still yelling at them to stop. He threw all his frustration with his failing task, all the stress and pain over the threats to his family behind one spell that would hopefully knock Potter off his feet and put an end to this stupid brawl the other boy started. Surely the teachers couldn't get too mad at him if he fought in self-defence. But as he began to muster his energy into the spell, Potter sidestepped unexpectedly and shot an unfamiliar curse that slipped through his defences and he stumbled backwards a bit. Potter paused for a moment in uncertainty. Draco gasped for breath and then he raised his wand to finish the attack.

Suddenly Granger was back between them again. She appeared in a flurry of brown curls and slightly damp robes, shouting desperately at her friend. But instead of holding back Potter and trying to appeal to his common sense this time, she had changed her tact. She dashed in between them right in front of Draco, putting herself bodily before Potter's wand to protect him, her hands raised in what he assumed was a calming or pleading gesture.

But she was just a second too late.

" _Sectumsempra!_ " Potter shouted the unknown spell loudly, the words reverberating around the tiled walls. Hermione had just stepped in front of him when it soared towards them, and she took the full force of the blast.

Draco didn't have enough time to react.

She gave an almost inaudible, slightly surprised sound of pain as the spell hit her. A spray of dark red blood splattered out from her chest and arm where it sliced into her. Draco heard a whooshing noise as the full arc of the curse battered past her just enough to slither through and make a nasty gash in his upper arm. But he barely felt it. His attention was completely focused on Granger as she stumbled with a groan of shock and then collapsed onto the floor. He watched in horror as the angry colour of her blood began leaking from the wound and spreading quickly through the water on the bathroom floor, until it ran crimson.

Draco's eyes widened as he saw the bloody wound clearly visible through her white school shirt, which was becoming more and more transparent with the water flowing around her. She was gasping for breath and releasing small moans of pain as she gazed at the ceiling with frightened eyes.

"Hermione!" Potter shouted her name in disbelief, before rushing forwards towards her.

Draco watched the other boy fall to his knees next to her and he felt an instant surge of protectiveness. Potter was the one who had done this to her. He let an angry growl escape his lips as he finally unfroze and let the terror take over his actions.

She could _not_ die here. It was not an option. He needed her. He was falling for her. His heart thudding, Draco dropped to his knees and pushed Potter out of the way violently.

"Hey you-" Potter started angrily, but tapered off.

Draco only had eyes for the curly haired witch panting on the floor. He cradled her to him, pushing the wet tendrils off her face.

"Granger, look at me! Granger!"

She seemed to be in shock, she was shaking and didn't seem to be able to hear him. He vaguely registered the way Harry was looking on in a mixture of alarm and confusion as Malfoy gently handled his friend; he was holding her half in his lap and speaking frantically to her. But she wasn't responding. More desperately, Draco spoke louder,

" _Granger_!" he took a deep breath, "Hermione!"

That seemed to get a response. Her face twitched with recognition and her eyes met his blindly.

"Hermione," he repeated, "It's okay, you're doing fine, I've got you-" he leaned in, cupping her face and stroking back her hair, "Hermione, listen to me. You need to tell me what spell to use. The one you were researching for Pomfrey that you were talking about the other day. The knitting one…you were reading a book about it, remember?"

She looked up more clearly at him.

"Wha…" she croaked.

"Hermione, come on, the knitting spell. What is it?"

She seemed to think for a moment, her head lolling a little, until she stared back at him with some recognition.

"Vulner Olnus."

Draco nodded encouragingly at her.

"That's it? Ok… Just hold onto my hand, alright?"

"Don't let go-" she whispered hoarsely.

"I won't," he promised.

He wasn't even thinking about the fact that Harry Potter was just sitting there to one side uselessly, watching this interaction between them. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered except making sure she was okay. She had gotten injured standing in front of him; defending him. Pointing his wand and trying his absolute hardest to keep it steady, he started to chant the spell and trace the wound.

" _Volnur Olnus…Volnur Olnus…_ "

Harry finally leaned forward, snapping out of his daze.

"What are you doing to her?"

"Shut up Potter," he spat, continuing to repeat the spell.

Hermione's whimpers died down as the blood swept back into her body, and her limbs relaxed. As he was finishing up as much as he could do without Pomfrey's help, he peered up through his matted hair falling across his face and saw that she had fallen unconscious, her muscles relaxing in reaction to the pain of exhaustion.

"Is she okay?" Potter asked thickly in a coarse voice, and Draco looked up to see the boy was crying freely, one hand gently touching Hermione as if to make sure she was still warm.

"I need to get her to the Hospital Wing," Draco muttered, still furious at the other boy.

" _I'll_ take her-"

"I don't think so," he sneered.

Then, slowly, he hooked one arm under Hermione's knees and one under her back and lifted her gently into his arms. Her head fell against his chest and he tucked her into his neck and stood up with a grimace. She wasn't heavy at all, but his bicep was starting to really ache where the spell had carved past her and through him.

Ignoring the Boy-Who-Lived who was still gaping like a fish out of water, he walked brusquely to the door, kicking it open and striding towards the infirmary, thankful that is was class time and no one was around.

 ** _October 27_** ** _th_** ** _, 2001_**

"Oh bloody hell, that's why you acted the way you did that day!"

Draco nodded and took another slow sip of his whiskey, staring into the fireplace with a frown as Harry leaned back in his seat, his mouth gaping open. He was shaking his head and trying to wrap his mind around the fact that he was being told a version of something he remembered differently.

"Wow. I honestly thought you were just terrified of being kicked out of school. I figured you were trying to look good for Dumbledore."

Draco snorted and shook his head.

"I was furious at you for hurting her. And scared that she might…well…"

Harry looked sheepishly down at his hands and pursed his lips. Draco really didn't have to finish that sentence.

"I wish I could take back that day," the Gryffindor boy said in a sad voice, shaking his head and running his fingers through his messy hair, "I can't believe Hermione ever forgave me for that one."

Draco smiled wryly.

"Well that's who she is."

"True."

The boys took another sip of their drinks, and Harry grimaced as he clanked his empty glass back down on the table.

"So by this point you had obviously realised you had feelings for her," he said with a bit of a cheeky smile, earning himself a glare from Draco.

"Obviously," he replied snidely, polishing off his whiskey in one more sip and taking a deep breath. He was starting to get tired, and rehashing the past certainly wasn't helping. As precious as that time with Hermione in sixth year had been, it was tarnished by years of heartache and loneliness that he had cursed himself with the moment he cursed it from her memory.

"What will you do when she wakes up?" Harry asked after a long pause, his voice hesitant. As he let out a deep breath, Draco considered the question for about the thousandth time. His eyes flickered to the door of the bedroom and he shook his head with a shrug.

"It all depends really on how she reacts."

"Fair enough," Harry agreed, leaning forwards, "But what do _you_ want? What's the best case scenario?"

Draco smirked and ran his hand through his hair a little self-consciously.

"Well ideally I'd like it if she opened her eyes, threw herself into my arms and we ran away together for an erotically indulgent vacation in Italy."

Harry chuckled a bit, but his face went completely red at the suggestion. Clearly he didn't want to hear such things about his friend.

"I suppose that's possible…" Harry agreed with an edge of sarcasm, but Draco shook his head.

"No it's not. I have a feeling she won't be happy with me at all."

"You said yourself that Hermione is good at forgiving."

Draco snorted and dropped his head a bit.

"Even _she_ has limits to her kindness."

Harry shrugged and leaned forward to pour them both another shot glass of whiskey.

"I never thought I'd say this," the Gryffindor boy began, raising his glass up, "but I really hope she does. I didn't think it was possible, and it's giving me an aneurysm just thinking about it, but you two really suit each other."

Draco blinked a couple of times and stared at the other boy.

"Wow, Potter. Don't get all gushy on me."

"Hey, I'm trying to be nice here!"

He chuckled and took a sip.

"Well, I appreciate it. I might need some allies soon."

"You sure will."

The two smiled shakily again before they drained their glasses. Draco licked his lips and thought back to that short time he and Hermione had shared together in the hospital wing before everything became confused again. He wished things had unfolded differently. With a sigh he begged the founders to let her wake up soon. He didn't think he could stand waiting any longer without knowing how she would react. He closed his eyes and just prayed and prayed that she wouldn't hate him now.

….

 **Another chapter down. We are getting closer and closer to the end of the memories and to her waking up now, only another chapter or two. What are you hoping will happen? Please leave lovely reviews!**


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's Note: Welcome back to another chapter. Hope you enjoyed your break this last week and many happy returns for the New Year.**

 **1996**

Draco strode towards the hospital wing with Potter trailing a few paces behind him. All their clothes were wet and dusty, and in the case of the Gryffindor boy his face was streaked with tears. He had just hurt, almost killed, his best friend who was like a sister to him. Draco could hear him sniffling as they weaved their way through the corridors. His arms were starting to ache from carrying the curly haired witch in his arms. She wasn't heavy, but the stinging wound there was starting to make him weaken. It didn't help that her blood was soaking both her shirt and his. He was extremely glad no one else was walking around nearby, because they would have been totally blown away by the strange sight.

Things had escalated so quickly back in that bathroom. She had stepped in front of a curse meant for _him._ He couldn't even process that yet.

The weird trio burst through the doors of the hospital wing, and were immediately met by Madam Pomfrey, who was stocking a cabinet nearby.

"Oh goodness," she remarked, seeing Hermione's prone form, "Quickly, Mister Malfoy, put her down over here."

Draco placed her onto the bed she'd gestured to, wincing in pain and grabbing his arm as he let go.

"You're hurt too!" she exclaimed.

"She's worse. I can wait."

Pomfrey nodded and got to work. She quickly removed Hermione's soaking blouse and inspected the damage closely. Potter was looking down at her in concern as well, though his eyes shot up in bemusement when he noticed that Draco had turned away with a scowl and a dark blush. Pomfrey's investigation had revealed Hermione's chest, covered only by a pale blue bra. It didn't bother Harry, she was like a sister to him and obviously he barely noticed that sort of thing, but Draco was trying his hardest not to look at her. He certainly hadn't expected this. He had only seen a glimpse of delicate lace and the soft swell of Hermione's breast before he had spun away, feeling like a blushing little first year. Potter must have been very confused about him attempting to give a muggleborn respect by looking away from her bare skin. Everything was spinning in his mind and he didn't know what to think. He was clearly much more aware of her naked body than Potter was; born out of an intense physical desire that he couldn't seem to conceal or cool down enough to allow himself the secret thrill of catching even a glimpse of skin that was normally hidden from him. He might go mad, but he could at least protect her dignity.

"Who healed these wounds?" Poppy quizzes sharply.

Draco jerked his head slightly to one side.

"I did…" his voice came out a little tentative, his heart pounding because he was afraid he had done something wrong.

"You did well," she commented, and Malfoy relaxed a bit, "You've saved her from getting some nasty scars on top of the existing one."

Malfoy frowned at that and his eyes flickered down to the side to glance at what the woman meant. Potter looked too and they both stared in surprise as they saw what she was referring. There was a long thin scar caused by a slicing hex. It ran diagonally across her sternum up and over the swell of her breast. Draco remembered her telling him about the fight with Dolohov at the ministry at the end of their fifth year. She had opened up about it a little bit over the Christmas holidays during one of their many long chats in the library. Hermione had really amazed him when she had explained her reasons why she was working on perfecting her shield charms. He had never seen her look so vulnerable or so determined before. It had made his admiration for her grow even stronger. When Draco's eyes flickered over to Potter, he could tell that the other boy had never seen the old scar before either. The boy's face was contorted in an expression of guilt. It was clear that he blamed himself for all this. And Draco couldn't help but privately agree.

The two boys stood to one side incredibly awkwardly next to each other as Pomfrey worked, but finally she sighed and stepped away from Hermione.

"Is she going to be alright?" Potter asked urgently, tears still dripping from his eyes now and then.

"Yes, she'll be perfectly fine in a week or so. And until then I'll have to keep her here."

"That long?"

"She suffered severe blood loss and the wound could still be cursed. I'm not sure. She'll need to be monitored in case there are complications."

Potter gulped and shook his head in disbelief and horror.

"I didn't…um…"

"Right, Mr Malfoy, let's quickly patch you up, and hopefully your stay will be a tad shorter. Only a couple of days by the look of it."

Malfoy felt a slither of relief. He had gotten paler and was leaning crookedly on the bed. His arm was burning up. He had only received the slightest stinging glance after it had brushed past Hermione, but it had been enough to suck the breath from his lungs. He couldn't even begin to imagine how much pain she must have been in.

As Pomfrey started to fuss over him and lead him over to a bed, he raised his eyes to Potter. The boy looked sick and ready to throw up. He was shaking his head a bit and couldn't seem to tear his eyes away from his friend. After a while, the Gryffindor boy blinked back a couple of tears and backed away. Then he turned and ran. To be honest he looked like he had Dementors chasing on his heels, he was so desperate to get out of there. Draco shook his head, gritting his teeth as Pomfrey performed some charms. Bloody Saint Potter. He could only wonder how Hermione would react to this whole mess when she woke up.

….

Hermione tried to blink, but she was having trouble opening her eyes. She winced a bit and felt the moisture that was sealing them shut peel away as her lashes fluttered open. Eventually she took a shaky swallow and tried to peer around her, seeing that it was dark wherever she was. Night time? The crisp white sheets were folded tight around her, and stopped her from sitting up to investigate. But that was just as well, since her body was so stiff she could barely move anyway. And she could feel a sharp stinging sensation in her chest. Worried, she gingerly tried to lift the sheet off her torso and sit up, but the pain that raced up her ribs was too much. She let out a hoarse groan that trailed off into a whimper when it was too hard to even prop herself up.

"Settle down, Granger. You're safe."

She relaxed when she heard Draco's voice to her right and turned to peer through the darkness, tyring to make out his figure.

She heard him murmur and a couple of candles lit up on the bedside tables. He was lying in an adjacent hospital bed to hers. He looked pale, but he was smiling softly, and was turned sitting up casually with his legs sprawled out before him.

"What happened?" she croaked, hating how weak her voice sounded.

"Hmmm, well let me try to sum it up effectively, shall I? Potter thought it'd be nice to paint the school with my blood, and you disagreed with him about it so you stood in the way – stupid Gryffindor – and took the hit. Potter got all teary and I tried to heal you using that Olnus spell. Then we came here. And now we're both stuck in bed."

Hermione frowned at his description and tried again to sit up. With a wince, she let out another embarrassingly pitiful groan as a flash of pain radiated down her chest and she collapsed back onto the pillow. Clenching her eyes shut, she held herself very still for a couple of moments until the stinging sensation faded. When her eyes opened, she saw Draco frowning as well in concern. He swung his legs around over the side of the bed, gingerly getting to his feet and moving the quick couple of strides over to her bed.

"Just lie down, Granger, don't try to get up," he said soothingly, and she obeyed him instantly. There wasn't much else she _could_ do. It hurt too much to move around. Taking deep gulps of air, she watched through hooded eyes as he perched himself on the edge of the bed beside her and placed one hand on her shoulder to hold her there. He didn't apply any force, just rested it there as reassurance or comfort more than any physical restraint. He smirked at her and continued in a theatrical whisper,

"And for merlin's sake keep your voice down, you don't want to call the dragon lady back in here with all her horrendous tasting potions."

Hermione exhaled a quick breath and chuckled in response to his comment. But then she winced and reflexively raised her arms in front of her.

"My chest hurts," she said throatily, rubbing her fingers along her sternum.

"Yeh well what did you expect to feel when your friend decided to slice you open?"

Hermione winced. She had a vague memory of seeing Harry looking extremely distraught by her side as she lay on the floor in a pool of her own blood. He really didn't need this guilt on top of everything else he was feeling about being the supposed Chosen One and from Sirius dying.

"He didn't mean to hurt me."

"Yes, you're right," he said angrily, his back stiff where he sat and eyes blazing with indignation, "He was aiming for me, not you."

Hermione stared up at him sadly. He looked very sullen. He had a large gash running across his shoulder and dark rings under his eyes from lack of sleep. He was clearly exhausted and upset. She also remembered how he had looked leaning over her on that bathroom floor next to Harry. He had been terrified. The intensity of his emotions, livid, potent fury and desperation had contorted his features completely. She could still picture those steely blue eyes widened in horror as he cradled her to him and worked in a panic to heal her. For such a cavalier and sarcastic person, his actions certainly spoke louder than his words. He could make jokes and tease her as much as he wanted, but she knew that his behaviour spoke volumes about how much he had changed these last few months. He never would have panicked like that over a mudblood even just a year ago. Swallowing the lump in her throat, Hermione smiled very gently at him, reaching for his hand and holding it in hers. His skin was so cold, and she felt him shiver uncontrollably when she enveloped him with her warm fingers. It dawned on her slowly, quite pleasantly actually, that maybe being attracted to him wasn't such a bad thing. And that just maybe it ran deeper. As she watched him through heavy, drooping eyelashes, she felt a small prickle of awe run through her as she finally embraced the truth of her feelings for the maddening boy. Her thoughts were bleary and muddled from exhaustion, but that one single idea crystallised in her mind and became a powerful thing. She was totally falling for Draco Malfoy.

….

Draco stared down at their joined hands with wide eyes. He liked the way her delicate fingers looked wrapped around his pale hand. His heart started hammering and he was sure she would feel his pulse quicken where their skin met.

"Well, I'm glad you're okay," she murmured with a tired smile, sniffling a bit as she blinked up at him. Her eyes were so dark, but the candlelight brought out those tiny flickers of gold. They were a bit moist too. Draco rolled his eyes.

"Don't you dare start the waterworks," he scolded. She giggled very softly, trying not to move her body too much to cause more pain.

"Okay, I promise."

Draco kept his gaze on her for quite a long time, before he finally looked back down at his hand, which was still cradled in hers. He took a shaky breath.

"You're just going to forgive him aren't you?"

Hermione squeezed his fingers lightly.

"Yes. I'll let him grovel a bit first, but I will forgive him eventually."

Draco shot her a fiery look.

"He doesn't deserve it."

Hermione smiled wryly, managing to prop herself a bit higher up on her pillows with a pained grimace.

"Probably not, but that's what it means to be someone's friend."

Draco smirked. He wanted to tease her for being so compassionate, but he was very aware of how much her compassion benefitted him. If it weren't for her kindness then they would never have gotten closer.

"Does that mean you've forgiven _me_ for everything?" he joked, "Since we're friends now."

Hermione smiled, her face brightening from the question.

"Of course."

He looked at her in partial shock. He knew he'd asked the damned question, but he'd expected her to avoid it. How could she possibly have forgiven him? He'd made her life miserable quite a few times over the years. He had called her disgusting names and treated her like dirt. He had told the whole school he wanted her dead in their second year, for Merlin's sake. Of course they had become friends, and he was ware that there was something even deeper simmering there below the surface between them. But forgiveness is a different issue that he didn't necessarily feel he deserved.

"You're insane," he said pointedly, and she started to chuckle before her hand shot to her chest and she groaned instead.

"Ow! Don't make me laugh."

Draco sighed, turning his hand over in hers and returning her grip.

"Fine, but I still think you're crazy."

Hermione smiled fondly at him.

"How did everyone react?" she asked.

He leaned on one elbow, stretching out next to her casually. He was hoping that his laid back demeanour would bely the thudding of his heart and the tingle of his skin where they were touching.

"Well Pomfrey was all business, no questions. But then McGonagall and Snape turned up and the full interrogation started."

"Did you get into much trouble?

Draco huffed out a breath and dropped his head, blond hair falling over his eyes.

"Snape was pretty mad. Potter and I both got detention every Saturday until the end of the term. And he lost his Quidditch captain's badge."

Hermione pursed her lips. She felt bad for her friend. Running the team this year meant so much to him. But then she could hardly disagree with his punishment when his recklessness and temper had put her in here. Maybe next time he would think twice before acting so foolishly.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, "I should have done more to stop him or calm him down."

Draco gripped her hand more tightly in his.

"Don't you dare," he hissed, "You have nothing to apologize for. I'm the one who riled him up, he was just coming after me to confront me about…"

He trailed off but Hermione finished for him,

"Katie Bell."

He winced. She continued with a sad smile.

"Don't worry, I won't pester you again. I know nothing I say will change what's happening."

Draco chuckled darkly.

"That's never stopped you before."

Hermione started to laugh, but it turned into a long yawn. Draco stroked his fingers over her hand gently.

"You'd better get some sleep."

"I'm not tired," she said even with her eyelids drooping half shut.

"Very funny, but it's bed time. Or Pomfrey will disembowel me."

Hermione sighed and snuggled down deeper into the bed again. Her eyes fluttered and half closed as she peered up at him.

"Goodnight, Granger," he murmured with a fond smile.

"Back to last names again?"

Draco smirked and shook his head, lowering his eyes.

"I think that's probably for the best."

"Ok…Goodnight Malfoy."

He gave her hand one last squeeze and eased off the bed, quietly making his way to his own. He realised when he got there that he was shivering, even though it wasn't that cold. He was starting to realize the painful truth about his messed up relationship with Hermione Granger. It seemed like curiosity at first, then obsession and lust, and then he thought he actually cared about her. But what if it was more than that? He had reacted with such blind terror when she had been bleeding on the floor at his feet. What happened if she was brought in front of the Dark Lord in his presence? Would he abandon everything, risk everything to save her? After today he thought maybe he might. He hadn't even stopped to think about how much he could have revealed to Potter.

He didn't even want to think about labelling the emotion he was feeling, he couldn't think _that_ word, but the aching constriction in his heart was more pain than he'd ever felt before in his life, even as it made him deliriously happy no matter how much it hurt. Turning on his side to face her, he watched her peacefully sleeping face for a while before he fell into a deep sleep himself, a worried frown on his features.

….

Hermione rolled her eyes as she listened to the scuffing of feet outside the hospital wing doors. Harry had been pacing nervously outside the room for ages, obviously too scared to come in. Ron had been busy with Quidditch training, trying to fill the gap had left with his suspension, and hadn't had time to visit her at all today, but that hadn't stopped Harry from loitering around the wing trying to work up the courage to come in and speak to her. Hermione figured he was figuring out a way to apologise to her without getting lectured too severely.

Or maybe he was hesitating because he didn't want to face Malfoy. He had just accidentally tried to kill the boy he considered his nemesis. Gritting her teeth, Hermione turned her eyes down to her book, trying to divert her attention away from Harry. He would come in when he was ready, it was inevitable. Her eyes flicked to Draco, who she saw was in a mirrored position to her. His legs were propped up with a thick book leaning on his knees. She was just about to return her gaze to her own book Malfoy snorted and mutter out the side of his mouth,

"This author would have made a good Hufflepuff!"

She rolled her eyes.

"It's a muggle author, you prat."

"Yeh, but it's so mushy. Loyalty and friendship, blah blah blah…"

"It's a classic."

Malfoy smirked and winked at her.

"No… _I'm_ a classic"

Hermione chuckled.

"Not to mention overwhelmingly modest."

Malfoy was about to answer when Harry's shoe accidentally bumped to door and it squeaked a little on its hinges. Both pairs of eyes darted towards him and Hermione sat up a little straighter.

"Harry! What are you doing just standing there?" she said, pretending that she hadn't known he had been standing there for almost half an hour. He stared at her in wide-eyed shock, shuffling slightly to stand in the room properly now that he had been caught.

"Hey Mione," he said shyly, sidling closer and sitting on the edge of her bed. He was a little far away from her, as if afraid she would bite his head off. His eyes darted to Malfoy quickly, but she noticed that the blond Slytherin had lifted the book higher and buried his nose in it. She saw Harry raise one eyebrow in complete bewilderment when he saw the title of the novel – _The Lord of the Rings_ \- but he didn't say anything. After a moment he swallowed heavily before turning back to her.

"How are you feeling?"

"Not too bad. Much better today, I can sit up properly."

Harry grimaced and placed his hand on hers. He looked at her with sad eyes, clearly not sure how to word what he wanted to say.

"Mione, I'm so sorry. I never wanted to hurt you or put you in danger. My temper got the better of me, and I need to make sure you know how much I love you and how terrible I feel."

"Oh for fuck sakes!"

The two Gryffindors looked over the Malfoy in surprise as he swore.

"If you're going to start getting all emotional and sappy then I'm getting the hell outta here."

He stood from his bed, rubbing his sore arm, and moved towards the back room of the infirmary where there was a door that led to a sunroom with a few chairs and benches. As he passed the bed, he exchanged a look with her. They both smirked mildly, sharing a private joke together before he sneered haughtily and slammed the door behind him.

Once Malfoy had left, Harry and Hermione sat together quietly for a few moments until she sighed and rolled her eyes.

"Seriously, Harry, it's fine. Stop looking so damn depressed"

"I could have killed you or Malfoy!"

Hermione sighed and rubbed her fingers over her forehead.

"Yes, you're right. I almost died yesterday, Harry. I probably would have if it wasn't for Malfoy doing that spell."

Harry looked a bit stunned.

"Uh…what's that supposed to mean?"

"I want you to understand that not everything is black and white. You lost your temper yesterday, all because of your silly vendetta against him-"

"But he's a Death Eat-"

" _NO_ _Harry!_ You need to let it rest for a while, or you're at risk of getting expelled. And isn't that exactly what Voldemort wants?" she winced a bit when she said the name, but she got it out alright this time. Harry was silent for a while.

"I don't know, Mione. I can't just pretend that I don't think he's up to something."

She nodded and patted his hand.

"Fine, Harry. That's fine. Hate him all you want. But just try and refrain from hexing him. If you're worried about something, bring it up with Dumbledore."

Harry smiled at her and gave her a long, comfortable hug.

"You're so bossy," he complained gently, with a warm squeeze of the shoulders, "But you're probably right. I'll do my best to leave him alone."

"Thank you," she replied with a false grin, knowing that despite all his promises, he would definitely not drop the issue. She knew what Harry was like when he suspected something. She just had to make sure she could curb his more ridiculous behaviour, like attacking people in bathrooms.

….

On the other side of the door, Draco felt a little bad for eavesdropping on their conversation. But it was about him, so he figured he deserved that much.

His heart fluttered a little childishly when he head Granger try to convince Potter to take it easy on him. Even though she wasn't throwing him a friendship parade or anything, it was clear to a compulsive Slytherin that she was trying to protect him in her own kind, albeit manipulative way. She _knew_ he was a Death Eater. Which meant that she was still playing along and disagreeing with her best friend for _his_ sake. She wanted to keep him safe.

When the scar-faced imbecile had finally left, Draco let himself back into the main wing and collapsed on his bed with a bored sigh.

"You heard every word of that, didn't you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, Granger."

"Very funny. Smug git."

"Uh, Slytherin here! What do you expect?"

Hermone giggled.

"I think you're lucky Harry didn't punch you in the face."

"As if! I can take him."

Her laughter doubled, and she lifted the book back up to hide her face. He flushed with pleasure to see she was absorbed in the book he'd given her. They'd swapped. His favourite for hers. Which left him stuck reading some weird book about people called hobbits and some magical ring.

He really hadn't wanted to like this muggle novel, but he felt strangely drawn to the Aragorn character; you couldn't help but respect a man who tried to be noble despite the shame of his family and ancestors. It was all too familiar.

And it made him happy to see her reading his favourite thriller novel about a rogue Auror who gets cursed and must uncover a conspiracy. Granger was tearing through it; she read too damn fast. With a smile he turned back to the book in his hands and settled down, the peaceful silence between slowly helping to heal something that used to be missing inside him

With a stubborn shake of his head, he tried to concentrate on the journey of these hobbit creatures and block out how deeply he was starting to care for her.

….

Later that night Draco was jolted from his sleep suddenly by a noise to his left. He shot up, rubbing the soreness from his eyes, and peered through the darkness to see what it was. It had come from Granger's bed, though Pomfrey had pulled the curtains around her. Stretching his legs with a wince, he swung them out from under the covers and crept over to her side. She seemed silent now, and he thought for a moment he must have imagined it. Then he heard it again. A gasping moan ripped out of her mouth.

"No-" she croaked hoarsely, "Run!"

She was having a nightmare. Draco watched for another second, but after she let out another pitiful noise he could no longer stop himself from reaching out. He didn't think he could let her suffer without doing something.

"Granger," he murmured, shaking her shoulder, "wake up,"

She thrashed her head to one side but didn't wake so he tried again, leaning closer to her and taking her by both shoulders.

"Hermione!"

She gasped in a deep breath of air and her eyes opened weakly, pupils roving around the room as she tried to drag herself back to consciousness.

"What-"

""It's ok, Hermione. You were just having a nightmare."

It took another few moments for her to separate her nightmares from reality, as her face scrunched up in confusion. She kept panting for a little while, turning away from him slightly to wipe her eyes with the back of her hands. Then she sat up gingerly, and Draco joined her on the bed, propping himself next to her with his legs stretched out in front of him.

"I'm sorry I woke you…" she murmured softly.

Draco frowned at her.

"You don't always have to apologize for everything, Gryffindor."

Hermione met his eyes with her wide brown ones. He was close enough that he could have probably counted all her individual eyelashes as they blinked at him slowly.

"Ok, I'm _not_ sorry, then," she said with a small smile.

"That's more like it," he chuckled.

He let Hermione take a couple more deep breaths, before he tentatively reached forwards. He felt so sure she'd brush him off or tell him to go to hell, but when she felt his hand touching hers, she grabbed it and held it like it was a lifeline.

"Are you okay?" he asked gently.

Hermione gave him a shaky smile,

"Of course, I'm just being silly."

"There's nothing silly about it, Granger, your nightmares don't mean you're any weaker."

She gave him a sad look.

"Neither do yours."

Draco looked at her sharply, remembering in a rush that moment in the library that had started all this. Her waking him from a nightmare.

"It's strange, isn't it?" she joked, "we've swapped roles."

Draco chuckled and squeezed her hand.

"I never thanked you," he murmured.

"You don't need to. I should thank you. For letting me in, and showing me who you really are. I know it must have been hard, but I quite like the real Draco Malfoy."

Draco dropped his head with embarrassment. He was struggling enough as it was without her looking at him with those big brown eyes, and speaking to him in such a private, breathless tone of voice. He couldn't help noticing when he came over that she was only dressed in a thin little tank top with tiny sleep shorts, far too much of her flawless golden skin revealed to his lecherous eyes. Someone should tell her to wear more clothes to bed. While they were simple, tasteful items, much less revealing than some of Pansy's more decadent nighties, they were so innocently sexy.

And now she was saying things to him that had his navel dropping in a pleasant sensation. He dropped his eyes to watch her face as it relaxed more and more as the memory of her nightmares faded. Her eyes were fixed on him, but he recognised the bleariness of someone half-asleep. Her eyelids were heavy and brows drawn together, but his attention was drawn to her puffy red lips that looked so delicious right now he wanted to devour her.

"Well, I'll let you sleep, Granger…" he stammered, starting to gingerly move off the bed. He needed to get away from her now or he was likely to make a mistake.

 _You're a Death Eater. You have a mission. They'll kill her._

He repeated the phrases to himself a few times; they were becoming common thoughts that he used to remind himself of the danger he was courting. Snape was right, this kind of behaviour would be intolerable if the Dark Lord discovered it. It would put a very large target on her, which was saying something since she was already the muggleborn best friend of Harry Potter. He ground his teeth together and started to slide away from her to leave. She grabbed his hand as he went to move.

"Wait…you're leaving? I-"

He winced as she stroked his hand. She couldn't possibly know the game she was playing. He flinched at the contact, even though he had been the one to initiate it earlier.

"Don't, Granger. I'm tired and you should rest too."

He was getting up to leave, half-standing awkwardly next to the bed when she spoke again. This time her voice was very hoarse and pleading, and it tugged at something in his chest.

"Draco…" she said in a small voice, and he raised his eyes to her. He was frozen, silent, waiting for her to say something.

"Won't you stay? Just a moment longer?"

He gulped and stared at her, wanting desperately to flee. He needed to get out of there before he did something that would curse them both. It was too treacherous, too risky to open the door to these feelings when he spent so much of his energy when he was around her trying to tame them.

But her gaze on his was so needy and trusting. She was frightened from her nightmare and wanted comfort from him. _Him._ The Death Eater. He felt his heart racing and he nodded numbly, not really in control of his body's actions as he clambered back onto the bed and lay down next to her. At this moment he would probably do anything she asked of him.

They lay on their sides facing each other. They were so close their noses were almost brushing against each other, and he could feel the heat from her body radiating from the warm, rumpled white sheets.

"Thank you," she murmured sleepily, her eyelids fluttering between closed and open. He just nodded slightly against the pillow. He was watching her very closely; he had never been this close to her before. He could count all the freckles scattered over her nose, and see the way her bottom lip had a little crevice in the middle, probably from where she bit down into it. Her forehead had a tiny matching crease in the skin right between her brows where it came together in a frown. She frowned far too much, Draco thought. That was the expression she got when she was thinking hard. But up close, he could also see the faint shadow of the dimples in her cheeks from where she smiled really widely. It was the smile she only gave when she was truly carefree, or sometimes mischievous. He loved earning that smile from her.

Draco noticed with a shiver that her eyes were open again and she was watching him watching her. Her stare pinned him where he was and he was transfixed. He felt his blood rushing in his ears and it deafened him. He was pretty sure Hermione said something in a whisper but he didn't hear it.

With something akin to a feverish madness he leaned forwards, closing the gap between them easily. He was sure he looked sweaty and intense, and not at all sane. Right up until the very last second he was certain that she would pull away, that she would be repulsed by the desperate gleam in his eye or the quiver agitating his whole body. But she didn't. Her eyes fluttered shut at last moment and then he was kissing her. It was barely a kiss really; his mouth had brushed ever so gently over hers to take her bottom lip between both of his. But despite the simplicity of the kiss, the sensations were extreme. The visceral reaction to her taste shocked him; he hadn't realised the blood in his body could rush so quickly away from his head without fainting. He could only really think about a couple of overwhelming things; like how soft her lips were, or how he felt her breath against his cheek as she sighed, or how badly he wanted to taste every single inch of her body.

Hermione whimpered a bit as he sucked her bottom lip between his, drawing back slowly as he did, and wishing he could dive in again to kiss her harder. But that voice in his head had increased from a murmuring reminder to a screaming warning.

 _You're a Death Eater. You have a mission. They'll kill her._

Draco shuddered in fear as his body jerked away from her slightly. Her lips were swollen and red from both sleep and his brief kiss, and her curls were wilder than usual. She looked thoroughly shagged actually, which definitely wasn't helping. He grit his teeth and stared at her as her eyes fluttered open. Her expression was one of tired yearning, but quickly morphed into confusion when she became aware of his own horror.

She immediately frowned and blushed, looking painfully self-conscious. She probably thought that he was disgusted or regretting the kiss because of her blood status or something ridiculous. Which couldn't be more from the truth. He wanted to reassure her, but it was too dangerous. This was a cross roads of sorts, and he needed to make sure he didn't fuck it up. His parents were counting on him to see this through, and every tempting step he took into this kind of territory with Hermione was another step towards failure.

Wrenching his grasp from hers, he pushed himself up and off the bed.

"I'm sorry, Granger, I shouldn't have-" he started to stammer, but she leaned her head back on her pillow with a sleepy sort of smile.

"Don't," she interrupted, stemming the flow of nervous excuses ready to spill from his mouth.

They stayed immobile for a moment, staring at each other with hesitation and uncertainty. He wasn't sure what he should say now that he had pulled away. Should he tell her it was a mistake? Should he reveal his terrifying secret to her and beg for her help? Or should he just lean back down and kiss her the way he really wanted to? When this last thought crossed his mind, his eyes must have darkened, because Hermione blinked drowsily and took in a quick, nervous breath. Draco shook his head and ran his hands through his hair, completely messing it up from its usual slick style. He took a couple of deliberate, calming steps away from the bed, creating some distance so that he could get control of himself. It was impossible to think straight when he could smell her all around him, and now he had her taste burned onto his lips too.

"You should sleep," he croaked.

"So should you," she retorted slowly, and he frowned at her. Although her eyes were drooping, she gave him a look that spoke volumes. Maybe she really did see the turmoil going on inside his mind. He nodded silently, letting out the breath he had been holding and grimacing.

"Goodnight, Granger…" he said tentatively, backing further away from her.

"Gnight Draco," she murmured. Her eyes were already drifting closed again. It was possible she would wake up in the morning and think this had all been a strange dream. Clenching his fists angrily at himself, he spun around quickly and made his way through the curtains and over to the other side of the room. He grappled clumsily with the objects on his bedside table for a moment. With a flick of his wand he drew his own curtains around his bed and cast a silencing charm. Then he drew in a few deep, panting breaths and groaned into his pillow.

He had wanted so badly to stay there. He wanted to kiss her properly, damnit. The way he always did in his dreams, instead of freaking out and making a complete ass of himself.

Flopping down further to lie on the bed, Draco turned onto his stomach and buried his head fully into the pillow. It was a bit suffocating, but it seemed to block out the smell of her lingering all over him. She hadn't seemed to mind being kissed. She certainly hadn't pushed him away, but then again she had been pretty exhausted and disoriented. And now he'd had a glimpse of what it was like to kiss her. He wasn't sure that he would be able to go back to being her friend after this. He would always be thinking about it – not that he hadn't already been consumed by these thoughts of her – but now he could recall the taste, sound and feel of her against him. It would be torture.

This was so unfair, he thought. The hot throbbing between his legs was like a taunt, begging him to go back over there. He ground himself into the mattress a couple of times, feeling masochistic. She was probably asleep again by now; she'd been dragged out of a nightmare for Merlin's sake. He needed to control himself.

Twisting over onto his back, Draco muttered a cooling charm and forced the air around him to turn chilly. His breath stuttered and he stared at the ceiling.

 _You're a Death Eater. You have a mission. They'll kill her._

It was going to be a long night.

….

 **Well there you have it. Finally they have had a small break through. It was inevitable, but poor Draco is going to struggle with this one. Please leave your very exciting reviews and let me know if you're enjoying the chemistry!**


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's Note: Here we go, another chapter. It's been a bit longer than usual since my last post, but it's been crazy busy and I'm doing my best. A lot of fallout here, can't wait! Please don't read too much into my times/dates, I don't really pay much attention to when things should happen at what time of the year... sorry! As always, the extraordinary JKR is responsible for this riveting world.**

 **...**

 ** _October 27_** ** _th_** ** _, 2001_**

"Oh Merlin, I am _such_ an idiot! It was right under my nose the whole time!"

Draco chuckled, looking tiredly over the rim of his glass at Potter. The other boy was sitting there with a dumbfounded expression, shaking his head as he absorbed the bizarre story. He blindly groped on the coffee table for the box of noodles they had ordered from the local Chinese takeaway shop and scooped out a large mouthful on chopsticks. Harry was still shaking his head bemusedly as he chewed and swallowed his chow mein.

"Never have truer words been spoken," Draco agreed with a smirk, earning himself a glare from the Gryffindor boy. Harry sat there for a while longer staring blankly at the far wall before he spoke up again. When he did turn back, he looked like the cat that caught the canary, with the widest grin Draco had ever seen the boy wear.

"So really you should _thank_ me for getting you two together," he announced smugly. Draco frowned.

"How did you reach that stunning conclusion, genius?"

Harry stuffed his gob again and spoke through a mouthful of noodles,

"Well I'm the reason you both ended up in hospital. So really I'm responsible for you starting your doomed romance."

Draco glowered at the other boy. He bristled at the term 'doomed', but he had to reluctantly admit that their brief liaison hadn't exactly ended well. He shook his head at the boy sitting across from him.

"Are you serious, Potter? You almost killed us both that day and you want our gratitude?"

The boy's face fell in an expression of childish disappointment.

"Well…when you put it like that…"

Draco snorted and rolled his eyes.

"You're an idiot."

"That's what Hermione tells me."

"And she's always right."

The boys both snorted, digging into a couple of new containers. Draco was pretty keen on this muggle takeaway, actually. He liked all the flavour combinations, of course, and it had seemed so easy for Potter to use his telephone-thing to place the order in a matter of seconds. And half an hour later it arrived at the door. It wasn't as efficient as having house elves obviously, but it was pretty nifty nonetheless.

"So you spent some alone time together in the hospital and had your first kiss," Potter summed up, not stopping to dwell to much on the last part as it clearly creeped him out, before asking, "what happened next? How did you start going on dates without us finding out?"

Draco shook his head, furrowing his brows as he remembered that awful time after they had kissed when he had panicked and been in such a fool.

"No. Nothing so simple, Potter. I didn't want to put her life at risk, and I was terrified of what I was feeling. So it didn't exactly go as smoothly as you would hope after that…"

He grimaced, and saw Potter across from him pull the same face in a mirror image of his frustration.

"Oh no. You really messed this up, didn't you?"

Draco remembered seeing the hurt, confused look on Hermione's face in the days following their kiss. It still ached somewhere inside him to think of the stupid time that he had wasted back then. But not as much as it hurt to think about the day when he wiped it all from her mind.

"You have no idea," he murmured.

….

 **Tuesday 25** **th** **May, 1996**

 **….**

Hermione was officially bored stiff. Draco had been discharged from the infirmary that morning, and she was left twiddling her thumbs, not even allowed to go for a walk or stretch her legs. Luckily Ron, after much begging, had brought her a decent stack of homework from the classes she was missing. But he had a lot of notes missing and it was all so disorganised she had a headache just piecing it together before she could start. She also had unexpected quiet time to finish the novel that Draco had given her. It wasn't half bad actually. It was a gripping page-turner, and she found herself considering asking him for more books from the same author.

With a heavy sigh, she Hermione leaned back against the pillows and closed her Ancient Runes textbook she had started reading in an attempt to focus. She stared up at the whitewashed ceiling for a few moments, licking her lips as she remembered what had happened in the middle of the night. It was sort of blurry in her mind. In fact, the next morning when she had woken, a part of her hadn't been certain it wasn't some kind of dream. She just had hazy images of pleading with Draco, lying in bed facing each other and feeling her body relax from its tensed state as she breathed in his soothing scent and felt his warmth next to her. She could practically still feel the ghost of a kiss brushing against her lips.

Hermione wasn't exactly experienced, she'd only had a few kisses before this and none of them had been spectacular. But now, it was always a blonde head and pale hand that touched her in her dreams and fantasies. Which would have been frustrating enough, but it also seemed as if Draco was determined to shut her out. When Pomfrey had discharged him from the hospital wing earlier, he had studiously thrown on his school robes behind the curtain and quickly strode out without once glancing in her direction. So clearly he was panicking about the almost-maybe kiss. Did he regret it?

Hermione frowned. She had a vague memory of how he had looked just before and after it had happened, even though her mind had been bleary with sleep and nightmares. He had seemed…unstable. He had been shaking so hard she was surprised he hadn't fallen off the bed. And the weight of his gaze had taken her breath away. So she was pretty sure that he had _wanted_ to kiss her. But it was also possible that he was frightened of the consequences. He was a Death Eater on some kind of mission after all, and she was Harry Potter's best friend and a muggleborn. It would be so typical for him to run away from this. She just had to decide whether or not to push him or if she should back away as well.

Shaking her head, Hermione frowned. She couldn't wait to get out of the hospital wing. She was going stir-crazy just thinking about it.

….

 _This is so fucking unfair._

Draco clenched his hands tighter around the textbook he was holding open, as the smell of her lightly perfumed skin washed over him with the next breeze.

The window had been left open because it was turning into such a warm spring day, and Hermione had recently started forgoing her jumpers and vests in favour of just a light white blouse and tie. And the skirts…

 _Merlin_ , he thought, _this summer is going to be the death of me._

Her skin was looking more golden and was so exposed, especially her curvy legs. She had rolled up the blouse's sleeves to above her elbows, and he had spent half the Arithmancy lesson counting the light scattering of freckles on her right forearm, trying to focus on that one aspect of her so he wouldn't be tempted to reach over under the desk with his sweaty, tingling hand and place it on one of her thighs, which she had crossed elegantly with one foot dangling so close to him he could practically feel it through his suddenly stifling trousers.

He shook his head. These were not the actions or thoughts of a sane man!

"Uh…Draco?"

"What?" he asked in surprise, realising just then that she was staring at him, concerned. She had left the hospital wing two days ago, but they had barely had a moment together until now, sitting next to each other quietly in class. And Vector had sprung an assignment on them, so he had been saved from having to talk to her beyond organising their work as a pair. That had certainly helped him to avoid facing the reality of his escalating lack of control.

"I just said your name about three times! Vector has given us the next problem…are you ok? You look kind of, um…shaken."

He shook his head abruptly, avoiding her gaze.

"I'm fine, just a bit overheated."

"Ok. Well do you want to get started on the hard one?"

"Huh?"

"The new problem."

"Oh! Right, hand it over then, Granger."

She was still frowning at him in concern as he got to work. He tried to ignore her by throwing himself into the task, and he could hear her doing the same beside him. They finished ahead of time and silently compared notes and corrected one or two errors before putting down their quills.

Hermione stretched her back with a moan once they were done, groaning a little louder as her back gave an audible crack. Draco couldn't help staring subtly at the slither of creamy skin that was revealed as her blouse edged up, and he had to close his eyes for a second and take a deep breath so he wouldn't lose control of his responses in the middle of class.

"Are you sleeping ok?" he heard her asking softly. He opened his eyes and turned to her with a smile.

"You just don't leave it alone do you?"

She returned his smile with a little self-deprecating blush.

"Yes I know, stubborn Gryffindor!"

He chuckled.

"Haven't you ever considered following the school motto?"

"Never tickle a sleeping dragon? Huh…" she looked pensive, then suddenly broke into a stunning a grin, "I never realised before how aptly that applies to you."

Draco snorted.

"The logic is sound," he agreed.

Hermione continued to giggle quietly, and had to muffle her mouth after one of the Hufflepuffs nearby turned to look at them curiously. Draco just scowled back to discourage any silly notions. The girl immediately spun around in her seat, with crimson cheeks and a slightly scared expression. He still had the uncanny ability to intimidate people.

"Speaking of dragons…have you tried your patronus yet?" she asked.

Draco squirmed uncomfortably in his seat.

"No," he said shortly.

At first her lips quirked down into a frown, but then she suddenly smiled, a grin that stretched her cheeks and looked truly bright. His heart warmed even more than the day's heat.

"Well maybe one day when this is all over you'll have a really happy memory to use."

Draco smirked at her with an exaggerated roll of the eyes to let her know that he was teasing her overtly Gryffindor emotions, but inside his heart was beating faster.

He hadn't even considered trying his patronus – if it didn't work because of his dark mark then he would be really depressed. But on the plus side, he definitely had happy memories now that filled him with so much brightness that he felt confident with his chances. And they all involved her.

….

Hermione couldn't help lifting her eyes to meet Draco's when Lavender and Ron started to have their explosively loud break up in the middle of the Great Hall. All it took was a few seconds for them to stare at each other before they had to avert their eyes for fear of drawing attention if they both started laughing.

It was weird. They had barely spoken all week, but that spark that drew them together certainly didn't dim or fade away. Every time she tried to talk to him about anything personal outside of classes, he quickly dismissed her and made excuses. He was definitely running scared. But she still caught him staring at her, and there was still a heat in his gaze that made her shiver every time they locked eyes. As if he was longing to kiss her again. Come to think of it, so was she.

But now she couldn't help but wonder about the look of sadness that had settled on his face. A lot of students were staring at her, no doubt wondering if this break up was paving the way for Ron and her to become a couple. Was he thinking that too? Hermione felt strangely warm at the thought that maybe Draco didn't like the idea of her being with Ron, that he might be jealous. She smiled a little wider, ignoring the gazes of everyone else and the fight going on and concentrated on her book as she finished dinner.

….

Draco strode away from the Slytherin common room as fast as his legs would carry him. He had managed to sit for a whole hour after dinner in the dungeons as half the girls in the damn place were gossiping about the romantic drama going on in the Golden Trio. Everyone seemed to think that there was something going on with them behind the scenes, that they had been having an affair in secret, and the dumb ginger menace had finally made his choice between Brown and Granger.

He was searching through his head across all his, admittedly minimal, interactions that week with Hermione. Had she said anything or shown any hint that she was pursuing a relationship with Weasley?

He remembered one day that she arrived a mere second before their Ancient Runes class started. She had seemed flustered trying to get there on time and her face was quite pink. He had assumed she had been rushing with heavy book bags, but that didn't make sense because she would surely use lightening charms. Maybe she had been with Weasley…

Draco ground his teeth together and tried not to think about that.

But still, _she_ hadn't been the one to initiate their kiss. He was the one who had taken advantage of her sleepy state, and she had never said anything to suggest that she was interested in _him_ in a romantic way. Or even if she was – since he didn't think he was just imagining the vibe between them – then surely he could hardly blame her for ignoring their attraction since he was working so hard to do the same.

He growled, really not wanting to keep thinking about that clumsy ginger wanker trying to weasel in on the woman that he had developed strong feelings for. He didn't want to think of her as his territory or anything, but he was feeling the sharp sting of possessiveness more acutely than he thought he would. He was supposed to be a wealthy, well-bred pureblood aristocrat. Not some hot-blooded caveman.

He stormed up to the library, intent on finishing some homework to take his mind off things. He didn't think she'd be there; surely she was busy somewhere, involved in her relationship drama with her so-called friends. All the other students in the entire school, and the entire staff as well, seemed to be under the impression that the Gryffindor princess and the red headed imbecile were simply destined to be together. He felt his stomach sicken painfully. The image made him want to punch something, or more specifically someone. Not for the first time, he was suddenly unsure about the future of their friendship. If they both survived the coming storm and continued this strange camaraderie in the hopeful event of the Dark Lord's downfall, he wasn't sure he'd be able to keep it up. How could he stay friends with her if she dated or got married to someone else? He wasn't sure he could stand to one side and watch her life go by, with other men trying to win her over, while he was just that guy who used to be sort of evil and made her life a misery, who she felt enough pity for to lower herself to be friends with him.

Draco scowled and collapsed back against a row of shelves, running his hands over his face, messing up his hair and groaning.

"Draco! Are you alright? What's wrong?"

His head shot up and looked in dismay as the woman in question approached quietly, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. Her curls were spilling around her shoulder loose today, and he almost groaned again as she stood close and her wide brown eyes looked at him in concern. This was torture.

"What's wrong?" he echoed in disbelief, "What's gone _right_ this year?"

She shook her head, curls swaying as if in slow motion.

"You're going to make it through this…"

"Oh don't start feeding me that bullshit, Granger. I'm not in the mood."

"You're never in the mood," she retorted.

He snorted, unkindly turning away from her and moving to walk away.

She grabbed his arm to stop him, and he looked down at it in shock. Her hand had curled right around his left forearm where his dark mark was. She saw the look in his eyes and hers flicked down to his arm, but she didn't release her hold.

"What is it, Draco? Is it something to do with… _him?_ " she asked, and his heart skipped, which only made him angrier with himself, and with her.

"It's my _fucking_ business, Granger, not yours. Being your friend doesn't mean you're entitled to every bloody detail of my life. So stop being a nosy little bitch about it!"

She looked startled and released his arm. Then she frowned, gathering herself after the shock of his harsh words, and pointed her finger right at his chest. He winced as she poked him painfully in the sternum.

"You know what? It _is_ my business if I have to put up with you being in a grumpy snit. I had a simply horrible day and I came here to look for _you_ in the hope that you might cheer me up and take my mind off things, and now you're behaving like a child."

" _You_ had a horrible day? What… Weasley not living up to expectations already? It's only been a few hours."

Hermione stared at him in disbelief.

"Oh for merlin's sake, not you too! I thought you were the one person aside from Harry I could count on."

He growled, not liking the comparison to Potter.

"What are you blabbing about?"

"I am _not_ dating Ronald bloody Weasley!"

Draco felt his heart jolt and he had to clench his teeth together so as not to give away the relief he was feeling with a smile or a telling gasp of air. The weight in his chest lifted in an instant and he stood up straighter. He blinked a few times, suppressing the childish grin that wanted to take hold of his mouth, and then tried to recover his dignity with a cold sneer.

"You mean I've had to listen to that ridiculous drivel all day long, and it's not even true? What a bloody waste of time."

Hermione stared at him angrily for another moment, before she suddenly burst into laughter, lowering her arm to quickly knot her hair out of the way into a bun. It was a nervous gesture.

"You're the ridiculous one, Malfoy!"

"What's got your wand in a knot?" he asked her with a frown as she continued to giggle.

"You and your bad mood."

"Excuse me?"

Hermione copied his stance, leaning against the bookshelves and biting into her bottom lip as she tried to stifle the impish grin on her face.

"You're jealous," she murmured in a much quieter voice, her tone a bit husky even though she was looking at him with a confident, knowing gaze that he couldn't quite seem to tear himself away from. His eyes flickered around the narrow corridor of shelves, but of course no one had bothered to venture this far back into the library, and she had probably put charms in place anyway.

"You're delusional," he tried to tease back, but was almost certain he failed to look casual enough to pull it off. His heart was pounding. She looked at him quizzically for a few more moments while he waited in terrible anticipation, before she shrugged slightly and sobered.

"Then why have you been avoiding me?"

Draco swallowed. Of course she'd noticed his cowardly behaviour over the last few days. He'd embarrassed even himself with his lack of Slytherin subtly. He ran a tremulous hand through his hair.

"I've been busy-"

"No more than usual."

"I was in bed sick with-"

"Try again."

He scowled.

"Alright, little swot, if you're so clever, you tell me."

She observed him quietly for what seemed like a whole minute before she folded her arms in front of herself.

"You're scared. "

Draco cursed and nervously ran his hands through his hair again, making it stick out in a few different directions.

"Of course I'm bloody scared, Granger!" he whispered angrily, leaning closer to her, "What do you expect?"

Hermione nodded quickly, pursing her lips thoughtfully.

"It's alright. I understand. _Believe_ me…I get it."

Draco looked her up and down, but she seemed sincere. Of course she understood the situation; she was the brightest witch of her age. But in his experience, teenage girls didn't always allow their common sense to win over their emotions. But Hermione wasn't most girls.

"What do you think we should do?" he asked quietly, keeping his gaze fixed studiously on his hands where he was twisting his fingers together. Hermione reached forwards and took his hands in hers, giving them a soft little squeeze.

"I'm not sure," she murmured in response, "But I know what I _don't_ want…" she took a deep breath and sidled closer, leaning against the shelf next to him, "I don't want to lose your friendship. It means a lot to me."

Draco nodded numbly, finally lifting his eyes to meet hers.

"I don't want that either."

"So please don't shut me out."

He huffed out heavily and tilted his head to one side.

"It would be safer for both of us if we kept our distance."

Hermione smiled gently.

"That's true. But would that make you happy?"

"No." Draco swiped his thumb softly over the back of her hand, and was pleased when he felt the shiver that passed through her. He continued, "You're the only friend I have. I don't want to ruin this."

Hermione looked at him quite sadly then. She didn't often express any pity towards him, and he normally would have hated it, but he understood why she felt sorry for him in that moment. He was pretty pathetic. He had body guards, minions, servants, groupies and relatives. But never friends. He had never shared as much of himself with anyone as he had with Granger.

"Okay then. We just need to be careful," she said in a firm voice, her lips held pursed in a stubborn pout. He smirked.

"Agreed."

With a tug of her hand, Draco pulled her towards their usual alcove. They set themselves up on the desk silently, piling their books around them. The silence was a bit awkward, and he was painfully aware that they hadn't actually discussed the kiss they shared at all. But it was there, simmering below the surface of their conversation the whole time. Draco's heart was still beating quite quickly, and he watched her open her books with a soft expression. It seemed he really had been ridiculous over nothing. And thank Merlin she wasn't with the Weasel git. He felt like even more weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

"So…uh…why not?"

"Hm?" she answered distractedly.

"Why aren't you with Weasley? I got the impression it was inevitable."

She sighed and cricked her neck as she drew up the date and title on a blank piece of parchment.

"Because he infuriates me."

Draco smiled cheekily.

"So what? I infuriate you more."

She finally raised her eyes to look at him, and he felt suddenly nervous, even though he tried to continue to appear light hearted and as if he were merely curious.

"Yes, I suppose. But my frustration with you is usually a product of your deliberate teasing. With Ron… I get genuinely cross with his normal everyday behaviour." She spoke with a deep frown marring her face, and he realised it was probably the first time she was really thinking it through herself. He held his arrogant expression and continued writing, even as his heart thudded.

"So what kind of relationship _do_ you want?"

He tried to appear as though he didn't have a vested interest in the outcome by continuing to look focused on his study. Hermione clucked her tongue thoughtfully and stared wistfully around her before she answered.

"Well…my parents are pretty much the perfect couple and I want what they have – they just can't keep their hands off each other. Even if it's as simple as a reassuring touch or a hug, they're always so physically close, even when they argue, and they just have this amazing chemistry. They complement each other, you know? Their personalities just blend together as if they're one person, even though they may have different hobbies or interests on the surface."

Malfoy frowned, still pretending to concentrate on his writing.

"My parents are nothing like that," he commented wryly, thinking of how they slept in separate suites and did absolutely nothing together except throw parties and events to improve their social position. His mother was rational but caring, whereas his father was strict and zealous about his beliefs. They were really nothing alike.

"And is that what's expected of you one day? A social or political marriage?" she asked curiously.

Draco sighed and clenched his quill tighter.

"In theory. But given the state of things at the moment…I find myself caring less and less for their rules."

Hermione shot him a truly evil grin.

"Well maybe one day you'll finally give into Pansy's hopes and dreams for the perfect pureblood marriage, and the two of you will live happily ever after with lots of pureblood babies."

"Eugh… wash your mouth out, Granger,"

Then they both started laughing, Draco feeling about a hundred times lighter than when he'd first entered the library. She was single, and didn't want to lose whatever it was they had between them. He felt strangely hopeful.

….

It was merely one stupid, happy week after their conversation in the library, when Draco stared in disbelief at the vanishing cabinet before him in the Room of Requirement. The bird was twittering inside the cabinet merrily as if nothing had happened to it at all. It's wings fluttered cheerfully as it bounced around on its little feet and eventually flew off into the towers of garbage around him.

He had almost finished it. The spell had worked on an animal.

His head spinning, Draco stumbled away from the cabinet and dropped to his knees, immediately throwing up a stream of burning bile onto a nearby rug. He crouched there heaving and retching as his throat dried up.

His fingers dug into the ground beneath him, his nails scoring against the fabric.

 _Bloody buggering fuck!_

Draco reached over with a jolt of his arm and grabbed an old, dusty lamp. He hurled it against a nearby table, delighting in the violent shattering of the porcelain against its surface.

 _Shit._

He had been working for months towards fixing this fucking cabinet, and now that it looked like he was succeeding, he felt torn in two. The roots of his hair stung because he had spent so long gripping it in his shaking fingers.

The bird had survived both the journey there and back. He should feel triumphant. He should be whooping with delight, but instead he just felt a hollow ache in his chest that was so acute that he could hardly breathe.

This was what he wanted, right? He would save his parents and be honoured by the Dark Lord. It might keep him safe and alive a while longer. That's what every Slytherin wanted, wasn't it? To survive and gain power.

A series of brief images of Hermione flashed through his mind.

 _Blinking tiredly at him from her hospital bed. Eyelashes fluttering closed as he leaned in to kiss her. Frowning adorably as she tried to work out equations in class. Leaning against the shelves with her hand wrapped around his dark mark…_

He didn't want to do this, he realised. If he let the Death Eaters into Hogwarts and killed Dumbledore, then she would never forgive him. That would be the end of their friendship, and would definitely stop anything else from happening with her that he might have been hoping for one day.

But he'd been fooling himself, really.

 _I don't have a choice!_ That grating voice reminded him, making the hairs on his neck stand up on end. If he screwed up his mission, then he would be risking the lives of his parents. They would be killed or tortured. He shuddered to think what they might to do his mother. He had to see this through to the bitter end. There was no other option. He was a mere week away, maybe two at the most, from perfecting this fucking cabinet, and then it would hopefully be safe for human transportation.

And he hadn't even been able to work up the guts to admit to Hermione that he had feelings for her. He hadn't even been fucking honest about being jealous of Weasley, for Merlin's sake. So what was he supposed to do now? It would probably be for the best if he just broke his promise to her and ignored her. If he shut her out now, and kept her at a distance, then maybe he could save her from getting as hurt as she undoubtedly would if he kept it going the way it was. With the image of that bird flying around, very much alive, their conversation in the library seemed insignificant.

But despite all that, he couldn't help the rush of adrenalin that pumped through him in that moment. He wiped the vomit from his mouth and shakily got to his feet. It was all going to shit soon no matter what. They might never survive the upcoming war, either of them. So what did he have to lose?

He had a week to figure out how to test and complete trials on the cabinet. He was already doomed, so he may as well go down in flames.

Draco slammed the cupboard shut and leaned his burning forehead against the cool surface.

It was now or never.

….

 **Oh no! Things are moving rapidly closer to our obliviate moment. Poor Draco is stuck in a very bad situation. I wanna give him a big hug and reassure him :) Thanks for reading – please leave your always lovely reviews!**


	14. Chapter 14

**Author's Note: Thanks for coming so far in this story; as things begin to escalate, we'll be reaching the past-meets-present moment very soon. As always, JKR wrote us these thrilling characters.**

 **...**

The noise in the common room was thrumming up into a steady roaring of voices against the backdrop of a fast paced electric guitar. Hermione placed her hands over her ears to try and block it out, but it just made the sound all warped and far away. She groaned and leaned back against the wall. She supposed she could go up to the dormitory and try to read, but she had promised Harry she would wait for him. Not that he'd probably even notice her when he got back. He'd been in detention all day, but he'd cheer up the moment he walked in and saw the jubilant celebration that had erupted in Gryffindor house. He likely wouldn't even see her through the tangle of arms and flurry of red and gold banners. Ron was jumping around and whooping like a mad person, a mug of butterbeer sloshing onto the floor as he bounded around the crowd.

" _GRYYFFINNNDOOOR!_ "

Another round of chanting started up and Hermione shook her head with an indulgent smile. It was hard not to be infected by this kind of triumphant energy. Finally, after what seemed like hours of partying, a bedraggled and downcast looking Harry dragged his feet through the portrait and stared in disbelief at the chaos of celebration before him.

"We won!"

The team dragged him in and, in wonderment, Harry's eyes widened from weary blinking to pure elation. He grinned bigger than Hermione had seen all year, and it warmed her heart to watch him enjoy a moment of such simple happiness. It was nice that he could have these memories, as they all approached the coming war. She laughed as he was mauled by a big group hug, and then her smile grew softer as she watched Ginny advance toward him. She saw the way their eyes connected, and inwardly cheered as Harry grabbed the girl he'd been infatuated with all year and kissed her right in front of the entire Gryffindor house. The noise stuttered a bit, but for once in his life, Hermione was pleased to see Ron have a mature response to the situation. He smiled and waved his approval, and the kissing began anew.

Hermione chuckled to herself, but then her throat tightened as she swallowed down the sadness that suddenly crept up on her. If only things were so easily solved for her. Without warning, the familiar discomfort washed over her, being surrounded by people and feeling a bit claustrophobic. She had never liked this much noise and activity around her, not when it left her feeling an oppressive heat that rose up her neck and reduced her to a tired, aching mess.

Of course no one was looking at her, everyone had their eyes and their catcalls directed at the romantic display unfolding before them between the Chosen One and the popular redhead. So it wasn't too hard to slip past everyone and make it out through the portrait. As soon as the Fat Lady closed behind her, she felt a wave of relief. It was so much cooler out here, and she sucked in a deep breath and took a moment to just enjoy the silence.

Hermione glanced around her before casting a tempus charm. It was getting late, but she still had another hour before curfew. She set off towards the library at a brisk pace, putting as much space between her and the rowdy party behind her. As a prefect, she was expected to keep a lid on this kind of thing and keep it under control, but tonight she simple didn't have the energy. There had been too many conflicting thoughts spinning through her mind this week, and she was desperately seeking some quiet time with a good book in the library.

When she was almost there, she felt a cold hand reach out and grab her roughly, dragging her into a protected alcove to one side of the corridor, masked by a heavy tapestry and a particularly creaky suit of armour. It was so dark, and Hermione started to raise her voice in fright when a hand clamped over her mouth to stifle her cry. The other person pushed her bodily into the wall and pressed against her to keep her still.

A couple of split seconds of panic washed through her, before Hermione realised with a rush of relief that the moonlight peaking through the window was helping her to blink and become accustomed to the darkness, shedding light on the blonde hair of her assailant. She took a deep, shaky breath through her nose and was assaulted by the scent of expensive cologne, mint and parchment.

Draco.

"It's just me, so don't scream, alright?"

She nodded and he dropped his hand carefully.

"What the bloody hell was that for? You could have just said hello!" She whispered, matching the volume of his voice with her own. He held up a finger brusquely, giving her a pointed look, and she fell silent. She listened with detached anxiety as the sound of footsteps and the voices of some giggling Slytherin girls walked past. She nodded reluctantly to him, still a bit miffed that he had thought it was necessary to accost her with such force. She waited a few seconds for his apology, but frowned when none came. He was usually more gentlemanly when they were alone. She peered through the darkness to look more closely at him. His skin was very pale and it had felt ice cold against her earlier. The dark, exhausted rings under his eyes were almost purple, and his hair was a chaotic mess. He looked deranged. Hermione felt her heart skip with worry, which was only increased by the desperate panic written across all his features.

"What's wrong? Are you ok?" she asked urgently.

Draco nodded but, even though she was still and not shouting or drawing attention to them, he remained firm pressing her into the wall. Hermione shuddered at the feel of his body against hers. Although his skin was cold, he acted like he was heated and out of breath; shaky and panting. She felt worry clench in her gut and tried to wriggle away from him to get a better look at him in the dark space. He noticed her struggling and stepped back, giving her as much room as the little alcove would allow.

"I'm fine…" he muttered, still piercing her with a fiery stare. She shook her head.

"No, you're not. You're clearly upset, and you look exhausted and-"

" _Please_ stop," he begged, and she immediately fell silent, shocked by his odd behaviour. He closed his eyes briefly and visibly trembled. When he opened them again, his gaze was one of pure despair. She blinked and felt her body tense with fear, a frightened yearning to help him without really knowing how. She watched as he raised his arms, pressing his hands against the wall behind her back and leaning into her. He pressed his forehead against hers and let out a rasping breath.

"Hermione…" he began in a croaky voice, and she felt a silly little flutter in her stomach at the way her name sounded coming from his lips, as if he was slowly whispering out the words of a prayer. "If I asked you to leave the country and go into hiding, would you do it?"

Hermione was shocked. She inhaled too quickly in a weak gasp as her mind froze at the unexpected question. Something was painfully wrong with him. He seemed terrified, feverish, urgent. Maybe he knew something was coming that would put them all in danger. But despite the confused notions going around in her head about his reasons for asking, his question still had an obvious answer.

"No…" she whispered, "No, Draco, I wouldn't."

She peered up at him, using the slithers of moonlight coming in through the window, seeing his eyes scrunch up in agony. He looked unhinged. But nevertheless, his idea was completely impossible. If something was happening, if something bad was going down soon that Draco knew about, then she had to stay and help protect the school and fight with her friends. Harry needed her. She had accepted years ago that her place was by his side no matter what; that her life was bound to her friend's fate. Despite what people said about her belonging in Ravenclaw, she was pretty sure that this quiet determination to stand by Harry through everything was the kind of bravery that put her in Gryffindor house in the first place.

" _Please,_ Hermione," he repeated harshly, and she winced at the anger starting to form in his voice.

"No," she answered more strongly, leaving him in no doubt about her certainty. His eyes widened in furious denial and he stared at her, his eyes crackling, before pushing off the wall and off her. He started pacing back and forth in the tiny alcove space, prowling like a predator in agitated pursuit of its prey.

"I won't take no for an answer," he growled.

"Don't be ridiculous!" she spat back.

He looked at her again, and she could tell it was a bad idea to get into a fight with him in his current mood, but she would never agree to this, so it seemed a disagreement was inevitable. She softened her expression and tried a different tactic.

"Draco…" she pleaded with him grabbing onto his hand and holding it tightly, "Just tell me what's going on! Why are you acting like this? What's going to happen that you want me to hide from?"

He clenched his fist unconsciously around her hand, making her wince in slight discomfort. She was sure to bruise, but couldn't find it in her to tell him he was hurting her. She saw a muscle work in his jaw as he tried to contain his rage.

"I can't tell you. You'll…find out soon enough. And then you're going to hate me. You'll _hate_ me."

Hermione shook her head, eyes wide.

"No, I won't. I know you. Whatever it is, I know you don't want this."

Draco snorted out a dark laugh.

"Even _you_ will not forgive me this time. It doesn't matter if I want to or not. The fact is that I'm prepared to do it, and you will despise me for it."

Hermione's mind spun with this information. She had no idea that it was possible to feel so torn in two for someone she had always thought to be a selfish, bigoted boy. But these last few months had completely transformed the way she saw him. The Gryffindor view of a black and white world was slowly dissipating into many different grey tones that left her lost and confused. And she simply couldn't imagine hating him. Not when he still had a chance to alter things. She tried to stroke his hand, like calming a wild beast, but he was gripping her so tightly she wasn't sure he would even feel it.

"Draco, listen to me. Let me help you. We can stop whatever this is from ever happening, and make things right-"

Draco chuckled bitterly, though it sounded more like a sob of anguish.

"No," he croaked sadly, "It's too late. My parents…he'll kill my parents…my mum…"

Her heart almost shattered then at the pitiful sound of his voice as he admitted his greatest fear. Hermione's whole body ached for him, swimming with pity and regret. She had only met his mother once, and his father had tried to kill her a year ago, but they were still _his_ parents. And it still hurt deeply to see his raw, unguarded terror for them. She sniffled slightly, trying to rally herself and appeal to him one last time.

"So we won't fight it. We'll just leave together right now and make a run for it. We can go away and hide you somewhere, take your parents with us, then I'll come back to help Harry end this…"

"Don't be stupid," he said tightly, "He'd slaughter us before we could even think about betraying him. And we'd probably have to imperius my father to get him to comply."

Hermione knew he was watching as her face fell and she bit into her bottom lip. She saw the moment his anger returned in a flood as his eyes flickered across her stubborn face.

"It's too late for me. But you need to go. Screw Potter and his fucking death wish. Save yourself while you still can."

"I won't abandon him," she said with quiet confidence, leaving no room for doubt about her determination. Draco slammed his hand against the wall behind her.

"If you don't agree to this, I'll find another way. I'll stun you and drag you away myself if I have to."

Hermione stared at him furiously. She felt her ire rise at his impetuous words, and she almost stomped her foot in a childlike gesture of refusal. Taking a deep breath, she managed to get a grip on her rage before she spoke, calmly and coldly.

"You wouldn't dare. I can forgive you for almost anything that's about to happen, because you're my friend, and I care about you and I _know_ you. But not for that. Not for preventing me from helping my friends – that's _my_ choice, not yours."

He spun with a growl and punched his fist into the opposite wall with a grunt of pain. He was breathing heavily when he spun around to face her, eyes wide and unbridled with panic.

"You don't understand. You don't know what they will do to you!"

"That's why I have to fight," she nearly yelled back.

"If they find out that you and I are…friends…you'll…" he choked on the words, but she just squared up to him as her stubbornness increased.

"They won't. And if I get caught I'm dead anyway, regardless of whether they read my mind or not."

Draco leaned against the wall, his head buried in his hands, fingers dragging through his hair nervously. She could see the moment his anger began to fade as his shoulder dropped and shuddered, to be replaced by a soul-crushing feeling of helplessness.

"Please, Hermione," he muttered hoarsely into his palms, the sound muffled but clear.

"No. I'm sorry, Draco, but I won't run."

Draco pushed himself off the wall and stumbled back over to her. He mimicked their position from earlier when he had first dragged her into the alcove, only this time he was not as in control of his own actions as before. He pressed her back against the cold stone, his body so close to her she could feel his breaths tickle her face, and for the first time in the dark space she became aware of the slightly wet sensation of his tears brushing her cheek.

"Please," he whispered one last time, hoarsely against her skin, his arms braced on either side of her body to trap her there. She felt goosebumps erupt all down her spine in a trickle of nervous anticipation. She tried to lean back away from him to look at him, but he just followed the movement so that he was pressing her even more intimately into the wall.

"Why? Draco…why do you want me to leave so badly?" she murmured uncertainly, scared by his behaviour and wishing she had the strength to push him away and run from the overwhelming feelings he was stirring in her.

Draco jerked back in confusion at the question. He stared into her eyes for a moment, no doubt seeing the doubt and conflict in them. But he didn't speak, and she became nervous waiting for him to offer an explanation or anything that might ground her and end this feeling of floating above her body as her thoughts were spinning around in turmoil.

"Draco-" she began again, trying to break through the cloud of sadness in his eyes. But he didn't let her speak. The moment she said his name, he pressed his lips against hers furiously, kissing her like his world was ending. And based on his behaviour tonight, maybe it was. Hermione gasped as he slanted his mouth across hers and fed from her like he was parched. His lips were soft and cold to touch, but the way they moved seared her.

Hermione's mind shattered in that moment, and she could no longer hold onto the desperate threads of rational thought. His smell and taste surrounded her, and she allowed her eyes to flutter closed and give in. She had never been kissed like this. Krum certainly hadn't kissed her with this raw, unbridled passion. Everything with him had been practiced, controlled, designed to feel nice and end appropriately. But Draco was relentless. His lips tugged and sucked and pulled as he really explored her. It was like he wanted to feel every inch and angle of her mouth, and took delight in each new moment. It was voracious and impulsive, with no plan or routine as he simply experienced her. Hermione's lips felt numb and on fire all at once, and the feeling was filtering down through the rest of her body as well.

At first she just held onto him tightly and tried to stop herself from making embarrassing sounds of pleasure, though it was difficult and a few long moans slipped through that made him shudder in response. But eventually she became courageous enough to start to kiss him back.

Hermione opened her mouth to him with a slight whimper when she felt his tongue swipe across her bottom lip, and she felt her eyes roll back in her head when he stroked inside her mouth and caressed her tongue with his own. The taste and feel of him sent a pulse of something between her legs, and she felt a bit dizzy at the sensation. She heard him make a strangled noise at the intimate contact, and he became even more frantic in his movements.

Her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer and she couldn't seem to stop her nails from digging sharply into his neck and shoulders, but he didn't appear to mind. He groaned as well and positioned himself so that he was standing pressed against her slightly splayed thighs. It was then that Hermione became aware of just how aroused he really was by the kiss. She felt him, hard and real against her stomach and her belly fluttered nervously, but not unpleasantly.

 _He's too tall,_ she thought dimly. And when she went to stand on her toes to reach more of his mouth and hair with her fingers, she rubbed against the bulge she had felt and delighted in the involuntary gasp and groan that he released into her mouth. Knowing that Draco was so excited by her gave her a little thrill, and made her so much braver.

They broke apart for a second to take gulping breaths of air. Hermione stared at him with bright eyes, alight with arousal, and he shuddered as she whispered throatily,

"Draco, do you-"

She was about to ask him if he thought this was a good idea, just because she was worried she'd drown in him if she didn't say _something_ , but his eyes were unfocused and heated.

"Fuck, Hermione-" he exclaimed hoarsely, interrupting her before she could finish. But she didn't mind too much as he leaned in again and attacked her mouth, tongues duelling in an embrace as teeth scraped lips and heavy pants and moans filled the air. She didn't think she could feel any more excited and energetic than she already did, but that notion was put to rest when he dropped his head with a groan and started to press slow, open mouthed kisses down her neck.

"You taste fucking amazing," he murmured almost inaudibly, and she felt him breathing in deeply through his nose as he nibbled on a spot just above her collarbone that made her feel light headed. When she let out a long, throaty sound as he grazed a sensitive spot under her ear, she felt his hips jolt a bit and he ground himself against her curves, seemingly with no control over his body's impulses.

Hermione felt a responding ache between her legs, but with him standing so close she couldn't squirm her thighs together to alleviate it. Instead, acting on instinct, she copied his motion and rubbed back, and felt her eyes roll back in her head at how nice it was. His hands had taken to roaming her back during all this, playing her body like an instrument so that she arched into him and moved just how he wanted. She tried not to think about how he got so good at this, but her thoughts came to a screeching halt as his hands lowered to clasp her bottom and pull her against him.

Any sounds of surprise were swallowed though, because he chose that moment to return his mouth to hers, kissing her deeply as his fingers stroked her skin and moved down her thighs. His touch was gentle and soothing, as if she were something precious that he was worried might break. He ran his fingers over the skin of her thighs; pausing in his kiss to suck in some much needed air. He leaned his forehead against hers as they panted, both focusing on the feeling of his fingertips tracing patterns on her skin underneath her skirt.

"Hermione-" he croaked, licking his lips, "Is it…alright…are you-"

She didn't really know what to say. The dull aching she was feeling was just a little bit higher than where his hand was touching her, and she both dreaded and wanted desperately for him to go further. She tried to listen to the thrumming in her body, but instead of putting into words what she was feeling she just nodded against him. He exhaled a heavy breath, his hand shaking against her thigh. He joined their mouths again, nibbling on her bottom lip and she melted into the kiss.

All the silly months of confusion about maybe having a crush on Ron and being jealous of Lavender fell apart in that kiss. The very idea of kissing any other boy but Draco Malfoy in that moment was absurd to her. Their bodies fused together perfectly and her lips returned his kiss enthusiastically. The butterflies she had been feeling in her stomach these last few weeks were going wild and setting her on edge as she became lost in him.

Hermione became aware of the soothing touch of him starting up again on her thighs, and she shivered as he pushed her skirt up higher to reveal more skin. One of his hands had risen to stroke up her ribs and along the underside of her breast, but the other was starting to trace the edge of her cotton knickers like an eager child waiting to open a Christmas present. Her fingers sunk into his hair and gripped him tighter, deepening the kiss as she shook with nerves.

Her heart pounded. She was waiting for him to go further and until he did, she wasn't sure she could breathe properly. She felt his thumb stroked against the seat of her knickers between her legs, which she was fairly certain she would have soaked through by now, and felt him freeze. He was barely touching her there, just the lightest of caresses that she felt right down to the tips of her toes. She quaked with scared anticipation, but nothing happened. He pulled his lips away from hers and then his hand was gone.

"Wait…"

Draco was panting and staring at her. She was sure she looked dishevelled; her lips felt puffy and her hair was no doubt in disarray. She watched him try to calm the blood pounding in his veins as he took stock of her panicked face and wide eyes. He reached down and spent a couple of moments smoothing down her skirt from where he had hiked it up in his eagerness.

"I…I'm sorry," he stammered, his face slightly pink with shame.

Hermione felt an odd mixture of relief and disappointment that he had stopped. But then she let her self-doubt take control and she frowned at him, blinking in confusion.

"Are you really?" she asked shakily.

He scowled at her. He looked angry again, and it was only adding to her confusion and hurt. He grit his teeth together and snarled as he replied.

"No, not really. Of course I'm not bloody sorry! You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that."

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. Well, she supposed that was enough to calm her doubt and insecurity before it could truly take hold. He seemed agitated again, not from regret, but from unfulfilled hopes, and so she spoke before he could have a chance to snap or get too angry.

"I think I can guess," she said softly, then added, "So have I."

He looked at her with wide, pleased eyes, like a little puppy dog that had been given a treat. She smiled at him and he relaxed fractionally.

"I just meant…I shouldn't have pushed you so far," he murmured.

Hermione shrugged slightly.

"I wasn't exactly complaining."

Draco looked at her heatedly and leaned in closer again.

"No you weren't," he said with a twitch of a smug smile, looking a bit like his old self for a minute. Then he sighed and lifted a hand to push a wild strand of her hair behind her ear, "But you deserve better."

Hermione frowned.

"Better than what?"

He grimaced and looked at the dusty little alcove they were squeezed into.

"Better than _this,_ " he said, gesturing around him before meeting her eye again, "Better than _me,_ " he added.

Hermione tutted and pressed her palm against his cheek, stroking his skin softly. His eyes fluttered a bit and he looked at her with an intensity that made her want to throw all caution and anxiety to the wind and kiss him again.

"Don't say that," she scolded gently, searching his face for some sign that he could be convinced to accept her help. But he looked resolute. She sighed.

"This isn't going to end well, is it?" she said sadly, and he shook his head, pursing his lips and squinting slightly as if to stop tears from forming in his eyes again.

"I'm afraid," she added when he didn't say anything.

"So am I."

They were silent for a long time then, unable to form words to express what they were both feeling in that moment. There was too much happening. Too much secrecy, fear, affection, confusion, dread and lust hanging in the air between them. So instead they just stared at each other, longingly, wishing that they could abandon it all and forget just for a little while. But it was hard to ignore the ticking time bomb over their heads. After a while, Draco's sad frown softened, and his lips curved into a gentle smile. He reached up and clasped his hand around her neck, and Hermione felt herself being pulled forwards. She complied and let her eyes drift closed as he placed a gentle, not quite chaste kiss on her lips. It was the kind of kiss that she felt across her whole body, and her toes actually curled inside her shoes as she returned it softly. Eventually he pulled back and blinked down at her for a few seconds in wonderment.

"Thank you," he whispered.

And then he was gone. The tapestry fluttered closed behind him, the gust of cool air making Hermione shiver. She leaned back wearily against the wall, pressing her fingertips to her mouth and closing her eyes against the tears that wanted to fall. The other, more rational part of her mind that was slowly ticking back into gear was reminding her that something dark was happening this week. Based on Draco's behaviour and words, she was sure of it. She needed to go back and find Harry and make sure he was all right. She would be keeping a close eye on him now that she knew. Not to mention she was going to be busy preparing everything for what came next. Pulling herself together, she tried uselessly to smooth her hair down as she stumbled out from behind the tapestry and into the long corridor. She was so focused on running through lists of things in her head and reliving that mind-blowing kiss, that she didn't even notice the set of eyes watching her walk back to Gryffindor tower.

...

 **Sorry for the mean cliffy. Wow, I'm exhausted. The next chapter, as you might have guessed, will be a big one full of forgetting spells and angst! Please leave your lovely and constructive reviews, I live off them, and write better with them** **J**


	15. Chapter 15

**Author's Note: Helloo! I have being typing so fast to get this one done, so let me apologise for all the typos I'm sure it will be riddled with. I also think you might all hate the suspenseful ending, but rest assured my next update will come sooner than this one! Within the week hopefully. Also, how did no one correct my poor timeline skills? – I crossed over into a new year but kept referring to it as 1996… weird. As always, JKR is a feast of jubilant ideas!**

Draco wandered back down to the Slytherin common room in a daze. He had made a shameful run for it after he had broken off the kiss with Hermione, trying to get as much distance between them as possible. If he had stayed then he would certainly have been too tempted to take it further. And that really wasn't a good idea. Of course, not all his body parts were agreeing with him on that front. His skin was still tingling with the fresh heat of arousal, and he wanted nothing more than to stride back up there and pin her to the wall again. He could still taste her on his lips; they were burning from the sensory memory of caressing her just like he'd dreamed these last few months. His mind was plagued now with new images of stroking his hand up her thighs. He had only tentatively brushed the seat of her knickers, but it had been enough to feel against his thumb how wet she was, and in that moment he almost groaned and changed his mind.

 _No! Just keep walking, Draco…_ he thought firmly, determined to make it inside the common room at least.

He couldn't do it to her. He might want her more than he had ever wanted anything in his life, but it would be a terrible mistake, one that he, and more importantly _she,_ would most definitely regret. Since he was a child, Draco had always coveted things; he supposed that was what happened when one grew up spoilt with parents who were willing to spend extravagant amounts of money. He would become obsessed with the latest toy or object; a new broom, a solid gold cauldron. And he had little to no experience with being denied these things. But here he was, craving Hermione Granger and yet denying himself the pleasure of taking her for his own. It was completely outside his normal experience to not achieve his every desire.

But this was different. This was _Hermione._ And in a few short days, if he managed to perfect his vanishing cabinet, he would be welcoming dark wizards into Hogwarts who wanted to kill her. He would be murdering the headmaster and leaving the school and this life behind forever. He would become a true Death Eater.

So no, taking the virginity of the most infamous muggleborn in the whole damn school right now wasn't a good idea, no matter how much his body screamed in protest. He might be perceived as pure evil by a large majority of the student body, but that didn't mean he had to act out the part. Not with _her._

Draco ran his hands through his hair and shivered as he wound down further into the dungeons. His scalp tingled from where she had grasped at it. He could still feel the heady sensation of her fingernails raking through the roots of his hair, then tightening when he kissed her in just the right way. Draco groaned. This was torture. He was still painfully aroused, and even thinking about what was coming later this week couldn't quell the terrible pull in his body, urging him to go back, to keep kissing her, keep feeling her all over. The way she had responded to him had been so unexpectedly exciting... she had released all those little whimpers and moans that he was still replaying over and over in his head.

Kissing Hermione had been like a drug, it turned out, one that he was all too eager to continue feasting on. He never wanted to stop. Now that he had stopped, it felt like his body was going through withdrawal.

His thoughts were still swirling like traitorous whispers in his head as he stumbled into the Slytherin common room. The entrance snapped shut behind him with a sharp sound, and he took in a deep breath to settle the butterflies in his stomach. He had made it back. He could do this, he could be strong. It was just one kiss.

 _It was so much more…_

Draco clenched his hands into fists and strode over the expanse of the dungeon room, finely decorated with tasteful pieces of furniture that various students were still congregated around even though it was getting late. He saw Pansy's face light up when he neared her little seating area, and his gut swooped unpleasantly. He really didn't want to speak to her. Quickening his pace, he raced past her without a word and practically flew down the staircase that led to his dormitory.

It took Draco a few moments to collect himself. He watched his own haunted eyes in the mirror again for a while, before splashing icy water on his face in a futile attempt to cool down the raging heat that was making his pulse thunder.

He got the fright of his life when his eyes flickered over the mirror to the bulky figure standing at the entrance to the bathroom. He jumped and spun around, just stopping himself from shouting in shock as Vincent Crabbe stood there with a stupid grin on his face. He obviously hadn't heard the other boy come in, which was saying a lot about his frayed mental state right now. Because Crabbe certainly wasn't subtle when he moved around. He shot his best glare at the other boy, taking note of the way his beady eyes gleamed smugly, and his fat, puffy lips stretched into a sneer. Draco had never seen him look so alert before. Usually his dominant expression was one of belligerent confusion, and sometimes maybe impotent anger. Never this cold or calculating. Not that he had had much to do with his Slytherin goons this year. He had been so distracted by his mission – and by _Hermione –_ that he had largely ignored Crabbe and Goyle all year. He wondered briefly if he should have kept an eye on them more, to make sure they didn't get into any mischief.

"Well, well well…the mighty Death Eater doesn't look so smug tonight, does he?"

Draco felt a small slither of worry creep into him at the sound of Crabbe's crowing voice. The pudgy boy looked positively jubilant, which was never a good sign.

"What the fuck are you on about now, Crabbe?" he spat, trying to look as unruffled as possible, which was difficult considering how messed up his hair had become earlier.

"You've been working in the room of requirement all evening, Malfoy?" he asked with a strange edge that made Draco instantly suspicious. He narrowed his eyes and folded his arms in an intimidating gesture.

"Of course I have, Crabbe you moron. Do I need to remind you about the task that the Dark Lord gave to _me,_ and me alone. Which, I might remind you, is none of your damned business."

Crabbe's smile only spread wider, almost triumphantly.

"But you _weren't_ in the room all evening, were you?" he gloated, his eyes too bright in the dim room, "Because I _saw_ you."

Draco felt his heart skip a few hundred beats and he tried to hide the little glimpse of panic on his face as he looked back at the other boy coolly.

"Get to the point, Crabbe. I don't have time for your pathetic games."

Crabbe stepped closer, making it so much more stifling inside the small bathroom.

"I saw you sneaking around near the library," he hissed, "at first I was convinced you were hooking up with some desperate fifth year, because you came out looking all messed up and so damn pleased with yourself. And then guess who came out after you?"

Draco's expression was cold and uninterested; even though he was feeling sick enough to vomit, and his mind was racing.

"I don't know, Crabbe… Professor Sprout?" he joked with a nasty sneer of his own.

"No…it was mudblood Granger."

Draco felt his back stiffen and he was nauseated by the sound of _that word_ that he used to use himself, but now just seemed so disgusting. After a short pause where he glared at the other boy and thought of a feasible response, his lips cracked reluctantly into a fake grin.

"Crabbe, my old friend," he began with a laugh, "your imagination grows more ludicrous by the day."

"I know what I saw, Malfoy-"

"Of course," he agreed calmly, "I'm not denying it. But what you saw and what you're… _implying_ …are two very different things."

Crabbe blinked stupidly for a couple of moments, his face going red and splotchy with anger.

"What?"

"Look at you, all proud and gloating. So what? You think you've caught me having an affair with a muggleborn, do you?"

"Well, yeh. I do," he argued with a grumpy frown that creased his face unpleasantly.

"Don't be ridiculous, Crabbe. The very idea is repugnant."

"Repu…what?"

Draco pretended to sigh impatiently.

"It's gross. I'm surprised you had the guts to even dare suggest such a despicable thing to me."

Crabbe glowered and loomed over him again.

"I know what I saw," he repeated again, furiously, "How do you explain the fact that the mudblood looked totally shagged when she came down that hallway, huh? Explain _that._ "

Draco feigned boredom, inspecting his fingernails closely.

"I was threatening her. She started bugging me about being in the room of requirement, so I dragged her in there, put my wand to her throat and let her know in no uncertain terms that she shouldn't mess with me. I was quite forceful."

Crabbe continued to glare at him, clearly not believing what he was being told, but furious that Draco had found a way to justify what he'd seen. His lips were twitching angrily and his thick forehead had a sheen of sweat on it. Draco met his stare confidently. Back in their earlier years, this would have worked perfectly. His two goons had always been easily controlled with a simple look or word, but clearly Vince had changed lately without him noticing. He really should have kept a more careful eye on them.

Crabbe tilted his head to one side and stepped right up into his personal space.

"I've seen you with her this year, Malfoy. Don't make the mistake of thinking that I'm stupid, like you always have. You want to fuck the mudblood."

"Don't be disgusting," he drawled.

"Stop pretending! I may not have seen anything happening this time _…_ but I think the little Gryffindor bitch has got a crush on you. And I think you know it. I think you want to use her."

Draco rolled his eyes. Even though his heart was racing, he was glad that Crabbe's view of the world was still so black and white. He'd be in much more trouble if the other boy suspected he had actual feelings for her. But Crabbe was incapable of seeing how a pureblood like him could actually care for someone like her. So his poor, dense brain was forced to think of it as purely a sexual desire.

"Whatever, Crabbe. Your ignorant fantasies really don't interest me."

"No, but they might interest…the Dark Lord," he whispered the name, as if afraid Voldemort would be able to hear him if he said it any louder.

"So what exactly is this Crabbe?" he snapped impatiently, "you think you can take some big dirty secret to the Dark Lord based only on seeing Granger and I leaving the same hallway? So you can try to get me tortured? That's your big plan to get on his side? Well, bravo."

Crabbe bristled at his sarcasm, slamming his fist into the tile next to them. It made a muffled cracking sound under his bulky strength.

"I can get proof!" he announced with a mad glint in his eye, "My dad said he'd teach me about all sorts of dark spells. Even one that can reveal our basest desires. Apparently it hurts like a bitch to have it cast on you, but that's alright too. Maybe I'll try it on Granger."

Draco ground his teeth together. He had to focus really hard on not throwing his fist into Crabbe's face and feeling his nose crack beneath his knuckles. He breathed deeply a couple of times to get a hold of himself. His blood was thrumming in him urgently, making him feel pinpricks of panic and fury across his entire body.

"You're delusional, Crabbe. I was chosen specially by the Dark Lord. Me. Not you. So if I were you, I'd mind my own fucking business and stop imagining things that don't exist."

"We'll see," the other boy said smugly.

"Yes we will," he replied in his most threatening voice, before he stood up off the counter and moved to leave the bathroom, "Now get the fuck out of my way."

Crabbe moved reluctantly to one side and let him pass back into the dormitory where he snapped the drapes closed around his bed. Once he was concealed, he took another deep breath and looked down at his trembling hands.

Draco cursed softly. He cursed himself for being so stupid earlier, for not thinking to use spells to conceal them leaving that hallway. He cursed Crabbe for being a nosy son-of-a-bitch. And he cursed Hermione for being so bloody stubborn and refusing to leave the damn country like he wanted so that no one could hurt her. Because he had no doubt in his mind now that, one way or another, he had just made this so much more dangerous for her.

….

With all the tumultuous thoughts swirling around in his head, it wasn't until three days later, on the verge of his final breakthrough with the cabinet, that he started to make some decisions.

His stomach was tied up in knots as he approached the non-descript black door in the dungeons that he had been avoiding all year. He wrung his hands together and ground his teeth down to control his emotions, which had been spilling over every second for the last forty-eight hours. He needed to approach this conversation with every shred of focus he had.

With a tremulous hand, he reached up and knocked as firmly as he dared on the door. This could be total suicide, but he had to hope that it would work, and that his instincts were correct. But still, his heart was pounding as he waited those few terrible moments until the door opened.

Severus Snape glared down at him, his dark brows furrowed in confusion when he realised that his godson was at the entrance to his office seeking an audience. Draco could well understand the man's surprise; he had basically refused to talk to him all year. Without saying a word, Snape gestured for him to enter with an elegant flourish of his long fingers, and Draco sheepishly crept in. He took a seat in front of the large desk and watched as Snape mirrored his position behind it. The dour professor linked his fingers together and observed Draco shrewdly for a few moments while he squirmed in his seat.

"Well, Draco. This is certainly a surprise. To what do I owe this unexpected visit? How is your charms project going?"

Draco swallowed and pursed his lips as a new wave of determination swept over him, making him bold.

"I'm not here for small talk, Snape. Frankly, I don't have time. And I'm taking a big risk coming to you."

"Very well, Draco. You have me intrigued. What is it?"

He took a deep breath and blurted out,

"I need you to help me with my occlumency."

If his godfather was shocked by the request, then he hid it very well. But then, he was supposed to be an infamous spy, wasn't he? Hiding things was his specialty. How else would he have fooled either Dumbledore or Voldemort or both all this time?

"You already have the basic skills, Draco," the man replied slowly after a short pause, "Your mother made sure of it."

Draco nodded, leaning forward in his chair and propping his chin on his knuckles in a nervous stance.

"I know. And I'm…adequate at it. But it might not be enough."

Snape frowned slightly.

"Do you believe Dumbledore is suspicious?"

Draco sighed and rubbed his face.

"Not exactly. I'm more worried about what the Dark Lord might find in there if he goes searching beyond the surface."

This time Snape did show a slither of surprise. It was just a minute shift of one eyebrow, but from anyone else it would have been a loud exclamation. Which was fair enough. Draco had learnt to protect himself against Dumbledore's gentle intrusions of his surface thoughts but hadn't needed anything more drastic than that at the time. But now… now that his mind was a veritable cavern of dangerous secrets, and it wasn't just _his_ life at stake, he needed more. As long as Voldemort didn't go digging into his memories he would be fine. But it wasn't worth the risk. If he showed any inkling of doubt, the Dark Lord would be unforgiving in his pursuit of the truth. And then Draco's defences would be useless. He needed what Snape had; a true fortress of occlumency.

"Well, Draco…I must say you have caught me off guard. Which is rare in itself. What could you possibly have to hide from the Dark Lord?"

Draco gulped and shook his head.

"It's better if I don't say it out loud…" he paused for a moment, chewing on his bottom lip, before finally asking "Will you help me?"

Snape scowled at him over the top of his fingers.

"What makes you think that I won't just turn you over to him? Now that I know you're clearly hiding something of value…"

Draco blanched a bit and felt another twinge of sickness in his gut.

"I guess I don't know for sure. I'm just trusting my instincts here. I don't think you're as devoted to the Dark Lord as you may sometimes appear. And…well…you've always protected me. Even from myself sometimes."

Snape's eyes darkened and he finally leaned forward from his previously relaxed posture. His gaze was thunderous and Draco squirmed further into his seat.

"You are entering very dangerous territory, Draco," he threatened with a growl, and Draco nodded quickly.

"I know. Believe me. I wouldn't be saying any of this if I didn't think it was my only option."

They fell into a thoughtful silence then, each of them studying the other closely. Draco was trying to gage what his godfather was thinking, but as usual the man was impossible to predict. He had always been treated very kindly by the normally strict man – well, kind compared to how he treated everyone else. But this was still a huge gamble. Finally Snape seemed to win a debate with himself and he took a deep, steadying breath.

"Draco…does this have… _anything_ to do with Hermione Granger?"

Draco felt his chest tighten painfully and he forced every muscle in his body to stay relaxed and not give away his reaction. But he was afraid that the heat that flooded his face would instantly give him away. First Crabbe and now Snape? But then he remembered New Years Eve, when the professor had stumbled upon them up on the tower watching fireworks together. And the man was a fucking genius spy. So it was really no surprise that he had figured something out.

"It's…I shouldn't say…" he stammered, but Snape held up a hand impatiently.

"There's really no point denying it," he murmured in his low, serious voice, "I've been worried about your connection to her for some time."

"How?" Draco blurted out.

"I've been watching you, of course," he spat, looking truly angry now, "You've become more and more careless all year. I always knew you were foolish, Draco, but you've gone too far this time. And you've put people's lives in danger, including your own, hers and mine."

Draco grit his teeth, his own irritation building.

"I didn't exactly plan it, you know," he grumbled.

Snape pressed his fingertips to his temple, is if warding off a headache.

"Nevertheless, you are on the verge of ruining everything."

"You think I don't know that? That's why I'm asking, no _begging_ for your help here."

Snape considered him solemnly for a moment.

"And what about Granger?"

Draco swallowed.

"I think I have an idea. But it's better if you don't know. You'll just try and talk me out of it."

Snape's frustration was palpable.

"So let me get this straight. You know that if the Dark Lord discovers your feelings for the girl, you will be as good as dead. And you need to block him out completely and mask your emotions."

"That about sums it up, yeh…" Draco drawled.

Snape sighed and closed his eyes for a split second.

"And how long until…you succeed in your task?"

Draco looked hesitant, scrunching up his brow into a worried frown.

"Um…about two days."

Snape visibly blanched.

" _Two days?_ "

Draco held his hands up, palms out.

"I know. It's not a lot to work with. But it's all I have."

Snape closed his eyes again and Draco waited nervously on the edge of his seat as he watched the man considering his options. He crossed his fingers childishly on the other side of the desk, hoping that his godfather would show him just one more act of kindness, even if he didn't deserve it. Eventually the professor opened his eyes to stare intently at Draco. He felt like the man's gaze go right through him and his spine tingled.

"Alright. We'd better get started. But I hope you know what you're doing, Draco."

He nodded, leaning forward and sighing with relief as he shot his godfather a sheepish, half nervous and half grateful smile.

"So do I, Severus. So do I."

….

 **October 28** **th,** **2001**

"Oh now I definitely feel sorry for you," Harry groaned with an exaggerated shudder.

Draco raised a brow quizzically at the other boy, confused by the interruption. Harry grimaced and leaned slightly forward on his couch.

"I learned occlumency from Snape too. It was awful."

"Really?" Draco smirked at the image, hoping fiercely that his godfather had put the Gryffindor boy through as much torture as possible. And knowing Snape's infamous hatred of Potter, he probably had.

"Eugh yes…" Harry continued, not noticing Draco's slightly smug smile, "I still get nightmares about it. And considering what I've seen and done, that's saying something. He completely violated all my most terrifying memories and thoughts. And I didn't learn a damn thing."

Draco chuckled outright now.

"Actually, Potter, that was probably just special treatment, because it was _you._ Severus was surprisingly patient and diplomatic about the whole thing. And despite the short time frame, he taught me a lot. It probably saved my life."

Harry narrowed his eyes in a glare that was directed somewhere at the opposite wall, as if he could somehow bring poor Severus back from the dead just to kill him all over again. Draco felt a twinge of remorse, but pushed it aside. This whole situation was upsetting enough without dwelling on his regrets about Snape's fate.

"Well that makes perfect sense," Potter whined, helping to draw Draco out of his dark mood slightly, "Of course he didn't _have_ to practically split my head open every time."

Draco rolled his eyes.

"Well it wasn't exactly a walk in the park, you know. I was trying to hide specific feelings for Hermione. So every bloody moment of our friendship was witnessed in painful detail by him while we were practicing."

Harry laughed suddenly.

"I bet he loved that."

Draco stared at him for a moment before he gave a reluctant smile in return.

"He did keep grumbling about having to endure our teenage angst."

The two boys chuckled a bit more before Harry sobered quite suddenly and looked out the window into the dark grey night. The rumbling of thunder was still present in the background as a storm rolled slowly in, made more menacing by the relative stillness of the air and lack of rain.

"I wonder if he helped you in part because he saw similarities to his own history with my mother."

Draco frowned and squirmed a bit in his seat. He didn't like the sullen look on the other boy's face, or the suggestion that Snape's unrequited and ultimately doomed obsession with a muggleborn had any relation at all to what had happened between him and Hermione. Though he begrudgingly admitted that both shared a lot of the same markers, he didn't like the idea that he would end up dying alone and unhappy like his godfather had.

"Maybe," he said with a noncommittal shrug, not really wanting to talk about it. Luckily Harry seemed to catch his drift, because the next moment the boy was leaning forward in his seat again and fixing Draco with a curious stare.

"Alright. So, the vanishing cabinet was fixed. And you were improving your occlumency ridiculously fast. And Snape knew about Hermione. I guess that leads us to…er…what happened next," he summarised in a rushed voice.

"Eloquent as always, Potter."

"Well? What happened? How did you do it?"

Draco took a deep breath, enjoying the sound of thunder booming closer and closer towards them. It reflected the turmoil of his mood.

"If anyone got a glimpse of her thoughts, she would have become a target for a fate worse than death. A lot of Death Eaters hated my father by this point, and therefore me by association. And she didn't have the benefit of occlumency like me. So the only solution was to wipe it from her mind…"

Harry nodded eagerly.

"Yeh, I know. Believe it or not, I've actually kind of accepted your reasoning for doing it."

"Really?" Draco asked, stunned. Potter smiled shyly.

"Well, I'm not saying I condone what you did to her, or the fact that you kept it a secret all this time, but you did it to make sure she'd be safe. So I can't condemn you for it either."

Draco nodded, feeling a bit pleased that he had the other boy's begrudging support. If Harry bloody Potter could understand what he did, then maybe Hermione would too.

"Okay…well then that brings us to the night Dumbeldore died-"

"Yep."

Both boys locked gazes, remembering with a mutual shiver what had happened on that dreadful evening. But as painful as it had been for Harry, he had no idea what Draco had endured just minutes before that devastating confrontation on the Astronomy Tower. When he had finally completed that fucking cabinet, he had gone mad. He remembered wreaking havoc on the room around him, smashing furniture with the most violent spells he knew and screaming at the top of his voice as if he could make the very castle itself wake up and listen to his pain He really didn't want to relive what happened after that. But he figured, since Hermione was being forced to remember it all, then he may as well too.

….

 **June 10** **th** **, 1997**

Hermione tried to calm her trembling fingers by clenching her fists at her side and focusing on walking as calmly as she could towards the dungeons. But she was a nervous wreck. Whatever it was that had terrified Draco a few days ago was starting to creep into her heart and grip it with an ice cold hand. She was certain that something was going to happen, and very soon.

Harry had left the castle in a rush with Dumbledore about half an hour ago. Her friend had stormed into the common room looking like a maniac and ranting about horcruxes, among other things. She had only just had enough time and common sense to throw up a muffling charm so that any other students loitering around the room would be oblivious to what he was saying. He had urgently whispered to them that the Headmaster was taking him to retrieve another horcrux, and he was depending on her and Ron to stay at school and keep an eye on things.

And as if that hadn't been enough to make her scared, her anxiety had increased tenfold when he'd blurted out that he'd heard loud sounds coming from the Room of Requirement. He thought he'd heard Malfoy screaming and whooping with delight, and he had insisted that it was a very bad sign. Hermione agreed, though maybe not for the same reasons.

She hadn't seen Malfoy earlier in the great hall for dinner until the very last minute when he'd rushed in looking haunted, with dark black rings under his eyes and his hair messed up. He had quickly shoved some food down, but all the while he seemed like he might throw it back up. She had tried to catch his eye, but he seemed to be completely trapped within his own tumultuous thoughts.

So she had been worried enough already, but now that she knew that Dumbledore wasn't in the castle, it had escalated to a completely numbing dread. She felt a shiver pass over her, and gripped her wand tighter as she approached the corridor near Snape's office. Luna was supposed to meet her down here in a while, but she wasn't going to hold her breath. She genuinely liked Luna, but the girl could barely remember her own name.

As she was creeping around the corner towards Snape's creepy domain, which was still buried down here in the dungeons despite his new position, no doubt to be close to his scheming Slytherins, she heard thudding footsteps coming her way. She rounded the corner and almost barrelled straight into the very person she had wanted to find the most. A flash of blond hair and a confusion of limbs ensued, and she was thrown back a step by the force with which they bumped each other. She peered up at Draco's face, he pulse racing, and took in his expression. He looked terrible. His face was pale and his skin clammy. The rings under his eyes were actually a nasty shade of purple up close, and his whole appearance seemed more gaunt and lifeless than she had ever known. He stared at her in total shock, before grasping onto her shoulder fiercely.

"Hermio…what are you doing down here?"

She sighed, furrowing her brows at him.

"It doesn't matter," she dismissed with a wave of her hand, "How are you? You look-"

Draco shook his head to cut her off and gripped her tighter. She winced a bit at the feel of his fingers digging into her arms.

"Stop it," he said, though his voice was not teasing as it usually was when he was reprimanding her for fussing over him, "I was just coming to look for you."

She gulped and felt the tiniest flutter of hope tickle her chest. Was it possible that the desperate gleam in his eye meant that he had considered her words earlier that week? She blushed just thinking about their unexpectedly erotic moment in the alcove together, but before things had got heated between them, she had offered to help him run away. Maybe he was tracking her down to take her up on that offer. He certainly looked ready to flee; his whole body was tensed as if to start running right away.

"What is it, Draco? Talk to me," she begged, hating the pitiful little whine in her voice that revealed her own desperation. But she would jump on any opportunity to help him now.

Draco's eyes widened and stared at her as if he were in pain. He blinked a couple of times and looked frantically around the corridor, shaking his head slightly. Then his gaze seemed to fall on a spot behind her.

"Come on, let's go in here so we're not overheard," he murmured under his breath, directing her towards a door that she hadn't even noticed, she was so wrapped up in her anxiety. It barely creaked open in a shower of dust, but it led into what looked like an old, unused potions brewing room. It was smaller than their usual classrooms, and was adorned with all manner of cobwebs and rusty surfaces. The silence was oppressive and uncomfortable down here, and Hermione was freezing. Her teeth chattered as she spun back around to face him and she swallowed heavily when she saw the way he was looking at her as he closed the door with a solid click of the latch. If she had thought he looked deranged in the alcove the other day, then it was nothing compared to now. He looked distraught, his eyes ferocious and blurry with an emotion she couldn't name as he started to pace back and forth in front of her, his gaze never leaving hers. There was a shakiness to his movements that wouldn't stop, and he kept taking deep, uneven breaths as if he were preparing himself to say or do something he didn't want to. Hermione shifted nervously on her feet.

"Draco…please say something. You're scaring me," she whispered, biting down hard into her bottom lip.

He blinked again, and this time his gaze softened just a fraction. She watched warily as he stepped closer towards her until he was close enough to touch. He reached out with an icy hand and ran it along the line of her jaw, sending shivers crawling down her spine.

"Hermione…" he began, but his voice was cracked and unclear. He cleared his throat uncomfortably and tried again, piercing her with a yearning, devastated stare. With that one look she knew that she wasn't going to like what came next. Her whole body stiffened as she braced herself, but he just smiled sadly and brushed his fingertips back over her cheek.

"I'm so sorry."

….

 **Omg I apologise... This was really mean. But as I said, I'll update within the week with the whole obliviate scene. Thanks for leaving reviews faithful readers!**


	16. Chapter 16

**Author's Note: Ok people, take a deep breath. As always, JKR is the source of our delight.**

 **...**

Draco let his fingers glide gracefully over Hermione's cheek for another delirious moment before she finally pulled away. A scowl of confusion was making her brow crinkle in the centre as she stepped back from him, and he swallowed in anticipation. He stupidly lowered his hand, clenching it at his side to stop it from shaking.

"You're sorry?" she repeated faintly, her eyelashes fluttering as she blinked and searched his gaze for answers, "Draco, what's going on? You've started acting more and more peculiar this whole month. And then last week…"

Her voice trailed off and she blushed. Draco felt his body flush as well in response as he was reminded of the deranged mood that had led him to pin her to a wall and kiss her senseless all those days ago. It seemed like a year had passed since then, with all the sleepless hours he had spent drilling occlumency practices with Snape, and panicking over the fucking cabinet. But even so, he could still feel the ghost of her lips on his; how soft and warm they had been, and how exhilarating it had been tasting her at last. The muscles in his jaw twitched and it took a supreme effort not to just stride over there and pick up where they left off. He took a deep gasping breath and spun around for a moment, pacing in front of her and getting a grip on himself.

"I know," he replied eventually, still not facing her. He winced at the embarrassingly hoarse tone of his voice, "I didn't mean to upset or scare you."

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Hermione cross her arms over her chest in a bossy looking gesture that he adored. His gaze flicked up to her again and he watched her cheeks tinge with irritation.

"Well you did scare me. I'm terrified. Because I _know_ something is happening Draco. Something bad. And I'm worried about you-" Draco's heart fluttered at the obvious concern shining in her big brown eyes, "-so please tell me what's going on. I've been going crazy."

Draco had been considering telling her the truth all week. It's not like she would remember it once he'd finished. She wouldn't remember any of this. But there was still something stopping him. He had maybe only minutes to spend with her now, and he didn't want to waste a single precious second trying to frantically explain his mission to kill Dumbledore. She would just try and stop him or convince him to get help. And he didn't want to put them both through that conversation. So, feeling cruel for denying her the answers she so desperately wanted, he shook his head and tried to step closer to her again. She backed away.

"Hermione," he began, feeling frustrated by her stubbornness, as he kept moving towards her and she kept backing away, "I was coming to find you because I wanted to see you. I _had_ to see you. I can't tell you what's happening, but I needed to see you one more time…

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked crossly, stepping back so far that she stumbled into a rickety old desk. Draco rubbed his hands across his face and stared at her with wide, pleading eyes.

"Are you afraid of me?" he asked uncertainly, noticing the way she had shrunk away from him completely, pressed back against the desk behind her as if it was a lifeline.

"Not exactly," she stammered, "I'm scared out of my mind at what might happen. And I'm afraid _for_ you. I…I just want you to be honest with me!"

Draco shook his head numbly.

"I can't. There's no point. You'll hate me either way."

Hermione scowled and wrung her hands together in frustration.

"You keep saying that! How could I possibly hate you?"

Draco shook his head, feeling that prickling sensation and blinking furiously to try and make it go away. He didn't want to start blubbering like a child. It would only make her more wary.

"Hermione. Please stop pushing this."

"Pushing what?" she yelled, "You haven't told me _anything_!"

Draco grit his teeth when he felt his jaw quiver with miserable regret and guilt. He strode across the small distance between them, ignoring the way she visibly shivered at the close proximity. When he was inches away from her he stopped and fixed his gaze to hers. He could feel all the yearning swelling up inside him and he clenched his fists again to make it go away.

"I can't complete my task until I know that you're safe," he blurted out suddenly. Her eyes widened until he could see the flecks of gold that had first drawn him into watching her so closely all those months ago.

"Draco…" she began to croak, but he lifted his hand with a jerking motion, his movements a bit unstable, and cupped her jaw, brushing his thumb over her lips to stem her questions. He felt like he was looking down on himself from a great height, unable to recognise the shaky, unhinged person he had become.

"Please. Hermione…I just need you to be safe," he whispered, watching the emotions play across her face.

He had planned to just corner her somewhere in the school, maybe the library; somewhere she felt comfortable. He had resolved and repeated to himself like a mantra that he would just get it over with. There didn't need to be a long, emotional goodbye. She wouldn't remember it, so what was the point? It wasn't like two lovers parting with tearful promises to find each other at the end of it all. He would be wiping himself from her mind. Their whole friendship would cease to exist. So it would be incredibly foolish and painful for him to draw it out any longer. He was just going to make himself more miserable.

But despite all his earlier determination, now that he was facing her he felt the world shift jarringly beneath him. She was blinking up at him slowly, her eyes full of anxiety for his wellbeing. He took a deep breath and let the scent of her shampoo wash over him. He revelled in the feel of her soft skin under his thumb. He couldn't believe that he had wasted so many stupid years thinking she was beneath him, or an ugly little swot. She was beautiful, inside and out. The force of her personality shone through and made her even more stunning to him than she already was. He admired the way her face was so fresh and open. Every slither of emotion could be seen in her honest eyes. And he simply adored the wilderness of hair that framed her face; not bushy at all, but untamed and perfect in its chaos of curls.

Draco blinked a bit at the distraction that had taken hold in his mind, knowing that the wave of longing was dangerous. He had to finish this. And with each moment that he looked down at her with his heart pining for more, his resolve weakened.

"This is such a bad idea," he murmured, his trembling fingers continuing to run a path across her cheek to toy with the roots of her hair at her temple. His breath was coming in short gasps now and his brain was screaming at him to just do it already. But every time he thought he might reach down to draw his wand to cast the spell, his arm would shudder in revolt.

"What is?" Hermione croaked, completely bewildered by his erratic behaviour. The sound of her husky voice made him wince as his eyes were drawn down to her pink lips.

 _Damnit Draco, don't be a fucking idiot,_ he reminded himself with a panicked scream in his mind. But there was simply no way of stopping the great hunger that had gripped his body.

 _After tonight, you will mean nothing to her,_ another voice reminded him, and his heart clenched painfully in his chest. After he did the spell, she would go back to resenting him as nothing more than a childhood bully, a bigoted little boy who had been raised to be spoilt and arrogant.

Without stopping to think of all the terrible reasons not to, Draco grasped the back of her neck and pulled her in for a ferocious kiss. He felt her gasp against his lips, and she pushed him away.

"Wait, Draco-"

He gripped her jaw tightly and stared down at her with a desperate plea in his gaze. He swallowed the lump in his throat and licked his suddenly cracked, dry lips.

" _Please,_ " he groaned out through clenched teeth, and the question she had been about to ask tapered off into a little sigh of worry, "Please…" he repeated, and this time he didn't try to stop the tingling in the corners of his eyes that heralded tears. He had lost her. Just because he hadn't done the spell yet didn't mean it wasn't true. And now that he was on the verge of facing the rest of his forsaken life as a Death Eater without her, he was overwhelmed by his need for her. For her lightness, for something to cling onto in the coming years.

She was watching him closely, seeing the way the tears clung to his lashes, still too stubborn to fall. She looked worried, but the way her eyes flickered down to his lips suggested something deeper playing on her mind. Eventually she gave a shaky nod, and he could have wept with relief.

With a long groan he sealed their lips together again. And it was even better than he remembered. He could vaguely recall what it had been like to kiss her back in that alcove. But too much had happened after that night and he had been panicking about his mission almost every moment since. But now those sensations came flooding back to him, only this time everything seemed more intense, more dizzying.

Perhaps it was because he felt heartsick and weary of fighting it, or because the thought of losing her at any moment was making him desperate. But as he kissed her, his body shuddered violently. His eyes rolled back into his head as he explored her mouth with no attempt at controlling his pace or vigour. He felt her mouth open eagerly under his assault and he stroked their tongues together, tasting every inch of her.

Draco barely registered the creaking of the desk behind her as he pushed her to lean against it. He grappled with her legs, parting them with trembling hands so that he could step between them. Hermione whimpered a bit and melted under his insistent movements, spreading them open further to wrap around his waist and draw him closer. Draco grunted and grabbed enthusiastically at her curls, wrapping them around his fingers and tugging on them to tilt her head back. With this new angle, he left one last lingering kiss before he ran his lips down her throat. He licked at her skin, making sure that he catalogued the way she tasted, and all the different sounds she made as he nibbled and kissed his way further down. He wanted to make sure he remembered everything about this. About her. One of them had to.

Draco paused to take a deep breath when he got to the top button on her blouse. He placed a gentle kiss there and waited a moment as his heart pounded. His brain was still yelling at him that he was making a truly stupid mistake, but he shoved the thought away stubbornly, breathing heavily against her skin. He finally felt her hands wrap around his neck to dig her fingers into his shoulder, and he took this as permission to continue. He let his hands skim across her curves through her school shirt, returning to kiss her lips thoroughly as he explored the skin just underneath the hem. He pushed the shirt up a bit to run his fingertips across her stomach and he felt goosebumps prickle under his touch.

Hermione tugged her lips away from his and let out a breathy moan that set his blood on fire, and he felt her squirm against him. He almost laughed at how easy it was to make him lose control, but somehow she managed it with the most innocent little movements and sounds. He didn't think he had ever felt more aroused in his life, and the aching was only enflamed by the way she rubbed against him, providing no relief whatsoever.

Draco took the opportunity to suck in deep gulping breaths of air, and as he did he felt bold enough to run his hands up over her shirt to the underside of her breasts. He held them there for a moment, just feeling the swell of her curves, before he moved up to grasp them and enjoy the weight of them in his hands. He brushed his fingers over her nipples and groaned when he heard her little squeak of surprise in his ear before she arched her back to press herself further into his hands. His heart thudded with delight at her responsiveness and kissed her so hard they both toppled a bit further onto the desk, which luckily managed to support their weight.

Just like he had in the alcove, Draco began to get impatient, and the stiffness in his trousers was certainly not helping to calm his racing impulses. He snatched at the hem of her skirt, impatiently pushing aside her school robes to reveal the creamy skin of her thighs.

They both parted for air again as he ran his fingernails up her legs, lightly scratching at the skin and lifting his head to watch her. She looked up at him through hooded eyes, that cute little crease in her forehead deeper than he'd ever seen it as she bit her lip in anticipation. He was much more bold this time as he reached her knickers and ran his fingers over the material. They were simple cotton things, but they suited her perfectly. And more importantly, they were damp under his touch.

"Fuck, Hermione-" he gasped, bending closer over the desk and kissing her hard on the lips, tugging her bottom lip into his mouth and releasing it with a small nip of his teeth, "You're wet," he commented, half in shock, but mostly in awe. He was still certain that this was all some ridiculous dream and he would wake up any moment in his bed back home at the manor. Hermione blushed a furious shade of red and smile shyly. Draco kissed her again reassuringly.

"Can I…" he choked a bit and paused, resting his forehead against hers and stroking his finger over the outside of her underwear, "Can I touch you?"

He hated how frantic he sounded, as if he were begging. But for some reason in his mind he thought that he may as well just turn his wand on himself if he didn't get this one last chance to touch Hermione Granger.

Her eyes were wide and fearful as she nodded. But that wasn't good enough for Draco. He could feel her trembling beneath him, and he wanted her to be free from any doubt before he proceeded.

"Tell me. Ask me to do it," he pleaded with her, his voice hoarse and tight as the muscles in his jaw clenched, and his cock throbbed uncomfortably. Hermione blinked a few times and stared up at him with understanding in her gaze. She licked her lips and took in a deep, steadying breath as she met his eye.

"Draco…Touch me…. _please-_ " the last word was almost whispered. That was all he needed. With a groan of relief, he pushed her underwear aside impatiently and stroked her, feeling the moisture coat his fingers. He gazed down at Hermione – _his_ Hermione, he thought – and smiled with almost giddy excitement as her eyes rolled back and she moaned at the sensations that _he_ was making her feel.

"Oh Merlin-" she gasped as he trailed his finger up to circle her clit. Her neck stretched back to tilt her head up, as her breathing got heavier.

Draco had to grind his teeth together in frustration as he pleasured her with his fingers. He was so hard it hurt, and grinding into her soft thighs seemed to provide no reprieve at all.

He jolted a bit in surprise when he felt a small hand slip down the front of his shirt to grapple with his belt buckle. Draco choked a bit on a gasp and stared down at Hermione's hand in awe as she attempted to loosen the placket of his trousers. He groaned at the neediness in her motions, watching as she tried desperately to free him from his clothes. Eager to meet her halfway, he twisted his hand and kissed her roughly again, pressing a finger to her entrance. He slowly sunk the digit inside her. She was so tight. He grunted into her mouth and pushed a little deeper to prepare her.

But that was when it all came crashing down around him. Reality washed over him like an icy blast, and he felt his whole body stiffen and freeze with remorse. At his fingertips he could feel the wall hindering him, and realised that she was still a virgin. In the back of his mind, Draco had been sure that she had done something with Krum. He hadn't wanted to dwell on it, but he had assumed that she had been intimate with the Bulgarian. Krum was a notorious womaniser these days, after all. He was renowned for his sexual conquests. But the proof was right in front of him.

Draco ripped himself from her arms and stumbled backwards a bit, staring at her with wide, horrified eyes.

 _Stupid, stupid, stupid…_

He had gotten totally carried away and had lost control. He he had wanted to take her. He had been going to…

Draco screwed his eyes shut and dropped his head into his palms, spinning away and cursing himself.

" _Damnit._ Stupid fucking asshole," he spat at himself.

What had he been thinking? He had formulated a plan to find her, maybe give her a soft kiss and then gently press his wand to her temple and take her memories of him as if they had just been a strange dream. He hadn't meant to push her back onto a desk and snog her like a man drowning in his own need. And he definitely hadn't meant to press his finger inside her and almost have his way with her. He gave a muffled scream into his hands, pacing back and forth like a caged tiger. If he hadn't been lucky enough to feel the evidence for himself, he would have taken her virginity right here in the dungeons, moments before cursing her and violating her mind forever. She would have had sex for the first time and then forgotten it all in the space of an hour.

"Draco?" he heard her croaky voice behind him, and he spun back around to face her with a guilty wince. She looked terrible, her eyes were wide and her fingernails were piercing her cheeks as she nervously held her blushing face. Then she self-consciously smoothed down her school blouse and skirt, her hands shaking, and he felt like the biggest idiot in the wizarding world.

This had been a monumental mistake.

His eyes pricked again with tears as he strode back over to her, grasping her shoulders roughly in his hands.

"You deserve so much better than this, Hermione. I'm going to protect you. You can go on with your life normally as if we'd never become friends…"

"Draco, don't say-" she stammered in confusion, reaching out to still the words tumbling from his lips. He grabbed her hand and held it tightly.

" _No_ , Hermione! There's no easy solution to this. It's too late."

"But…" her voice was soft and she started to blink back tears. He couldn't really blame her for getting emotional, since he was openly crying now. Then she whispered, "I wanted it. Draco, I wanted _you_. Why did you stop-"

Draco choked a bit on a sob, a yearning for what might have been. He didn't dare let himself imagine what could have happened between them if it weren't for his fucked up circumstances.

"Please don't," he begged, closing his eyes and hating the sticky wetness on his cheeks from his tears, "Just…I need to do this. And I'm not sure I'll have the strength if we keep going."

He peered back up at Hermione when she was silent in response. She was frowning at him warily, as if trying to work out a puzzle. And as she did, her expression became more and more fearful.

"Draco…" she whispered hoarsely, "What are you going to do?"

He shook his head, moving closer and resting his forehead against hers. They were very close now, her quick breaths landing on his cheek.

"I have to," he whispered.

Hermione struggled a bit under his grasp, but he held onto her tightly.

"Draco, _no._ You have to let me help you."

He shook his head against hers. He could feel her trembling under his grip, and he rubbed his hands up and down her arms soothingly.

"If something happened to you, Hermione…I don't know what I'd do."

She jerked back to stare at him through tearful eyes.

"You think it's any better for me?"

Draco bit his lip and took her face in his palms.

"I can protect you," he repeated, his determination renewing even as he felt a fresh round of tears trickle from his eyelashes.

"Why can't you let me help you run or hide or something? Anything but this." she sobbed unevenly.

"I'm sorry. But I've made up my mind."

This time he straightened his back and lifted his wand out of his pocket slowly. Hermione's eyes widened in terror.

" _NO,_ wait! What's happening? What are you doing?" she cried frantically, squirming free from him and stepping backwards a step.

This was it, Draco thought. He should just do it.

"DRACO!" she screeched in warning, her tears spilling uncontrollably as he pointed the wand towards her forehead, "Stop, damnit! What are you doing?"

Draco took a deep, rattling breath, trying to sniff back his tears and hold his arm steady.

"I have to do it," he murmured to himself, feeling the sweat beading on his brow. He could see Hermione speaking rapidly, trying to convince him to lower his wand and talk to her, but he just shook his head numbly. He felt a twitch in the muscles around his eyes and he clenched his hand around his wand. He obviously looked completely deranged as he tried to summon up the courage to speak the curse, because Hermione went silent all of a sudden and just stared at the tip of his wand in horror. It was poised so close to her face now, and her expression had turned desolate. Her eyes were puffy and swollen as she sobbed, and Draco scrunched his eyes up tight so that she was just a blurry slither in his vision. He saw her bottom lip tremble as she whispered,

" _Why?_ "

Draco stared at her through haunted eyes, a pitiful whimper escaping his lips.

"Because I'm in love with you," he finally said in husky voice that dripped with anguish.

Hermione bit her lip so hard he thought he saw her draw blood. Her eyes widened and she drew in a shocked breath. But Draco couldn't bear to hear her response. If she didn't say it back then he would be heartbroken. And if she did say it, then he didn't think he would have the willpower to cast the spell. So just as she was about to open her mouth to speak, he fixed his grip upon the wand in his hand. He concentrated on every single precious memory he had this year with Hermione, dismissing the feeling of revulsion in the pit of his stomach at the thought that he would be dooming himself to a life without her. Draco twisted the wand slightly to the right with a trembling hand.

"NO, _please_ , Draco-"

" _Obliviate._ "

….

 **October 28** **th,** **2001**

Hermione's eyes shot open and she took a few gasping breaths. For a moment she was completely disoriented. She stared blearily around at the dark room, lit only by a couple of sparse candles. Ignoring the way her heart pounded in her chest, she tried to take her bearings, and let out a huge breath of relief when she recognised her bedroom in the apartment she shared with Harry. But as soon as she tried to lift her head even slightly, there was a shooting pain in her skull and she quickly brought her hands up to cradle her forehead with a whimper. Her body was sweaty and shaking, and it took awhile before her mind calmed and she was able to breathe properly again.

Hermione sniffled and opened her eyes. She took a deep breath in and looked down at her trembling fingers. As she breathed in a second time, trying to calm her aching body, she became aware of a scent clinging to her clothes.

Draco…

She could remember the smell of his skin as if it were only yesterday that they had shared their last heated embrace. Her eyelashes fluttered at the overwhelming feelings that tightened painfully in her chest. Then her mind froze and she convulsed on the bed, jerking to sit fully upright up.

 _Oh fuck._

….

 **Oh dear.** ** _She remembers_** **! The next section of the story will deal with Draco's life after he cast the spell, and of course the ultimate fallout after Hermione wakes up. Exciting times. Please leave your lovely reviews, they inspire me with ideas.**


	17. Chapter 17

**Author's Note: Well the last chapter was certainly a bit of a whirlwind. This one will continue to heighten the drama. Not to worry, there are still a few chapters to go. It's not over yet. As always, JKR is a tremendous source of inspiration.**

 **22** **nd** **June 1997**

Draco sat sullenly in his room, slumped on the window seat, staring out numbly at the windy grounds of Malfoy Manor. It had been almost two weeks since he had left Hogwarts and Hermione behind. And three weeks since Snape had helped him perfect his Occlumency walls to protect himself. Fortunately they hadn't been tested too deeply yet. The former professor and spy had been able to spin the story for the Dark Lord so that it sounded like Draco had heroically led the charge to infiltrate Hogwarts for the Death Eaters and then had selflessly stepped aside and allowed Snape to fulfil his desire to kill a man he had hated for years. Voldemort seemed happy enough with this explanation, and since Draco had left that first meeting he had only been invited into the inner circle once or twice. But the insidious impact of the Death Eaters was felt all around him. They had made the manor their inner sanctum for the time being, and he was trying his best to stay locked away in his private chambers. He had studiously avoided the dungeons, from which he could hear the daily screams of tortured prisoners. And he didn't want to go anywhere near his mad Aunt Bellatrix. She kept trying to encourage him to join in violent raids of mudblood houses. He had only been forced to go to a couple of these bleak excursions into muggle towns, and the nightmares haunted him every time he closed his eyes.

Draco let out a heavy breath, leaning his head against the cool glass and thought of Hermione. She was the only thing that got him through it all these days. His feverish mind thought back to the heated kiss they'd shared in that alcove. And then the one in the dungeons before he'd cursed her. He knew it was foolish to dwell on these moments. He might go crazy with wanting and lost dreams. Now that she was gone forever, it was hopeless to keep her in his fantasies. He should cut himself off to avoid getting hurt even more. If that were even possible. But with the war escalating around him, he needed every opportunity to survive. And thinking of Hermione made him stronger. It kept him sane.

Even in his wildest fantasies, he'd never imagined she would ever kiss him back with such passion as she had on those two occasions. He figured she might slap him, or yell at him or cry. In truth he thought she'd just say something kind, pitying even, and then gently try to reject him. She was far too tender hearted. But he never expected her to kiss him back so thoroughly, or with such addictive whimpers and moans right in his ear.

He could still hear her purring in his mind when he was alone, trapped within his own thoughts. Her lips had been so incredibly soft, and his depraved, desperate imagination could not help picturing what it would be like to kiss more of her. He wanted to kiss every inch of her skin, and feel himself buried deep inside her as she moaned his name just the way she'd whispered it that night. He was becoming obsessive, and even with occlumency walls it was probably dangerous. Surrounded by so much darkness, Draco found himself clinging more and more to the memory of her lightness, her simple good nature, her heart warming laugh, her limitless kindness.

He was jolted out of his thoughts by the soft knock on his bedroom door, and his mother entered with a gentle half smile on her face. Draco had enjoyed spending time with her since he had returned, but she was always so sad these days, and she seemed to be trying to make up for the fact that he had been forced into this because of her and Lucius. His parents had both suffered a lot this last year, and it had changed them. But as a family, they were still all fiercely protective of one another.

"May I come in, dear?"

He nodded and turned back to the window, hearing her tap softly over to sit beside him on the cushioned window box. They sat in silence for a little while before his mother took a calm breath and spoke.

"Are you going to talk to me about it?"

"About what?" he grunted.

She reached out and touched his hand with her elegantly manicured fingers.

"About whatever is making you so upset."

Draco snorted and his eyes darted to his mother with amusement.

"I had thought it was quite obvious, mother. You haven't been into father's whiskey cabinet, have you? Our house has been run over by homicidal lunatics."

His mother smiled fondly at him, her eyes still sad.

"I don't mean that. You seem particularly sad to be away from school. Do you wish you were still back at the castle?"

He raised one brow quizzically.

"What makes you think I miss school?"

"Well for starters you keep flipping through a couple of your textbooks without really reading them. And you haven't let Miffy wash one of your uniforms in weeks, which honestly isn't very pleasant dear. You also keep staring out the window like you wish you were somewhere else."

Draco chuckled wryly. He shouldn't really be surprised his mother could read him so well. The textbook he'd been reading and re-reading was his arithmancy book. Shortly after he returned, he had remembered that the text was littered with little excerpts here and there in Hermione's slanting, tiny handwriting. He had sat for hours just pouring over the little suggestions and notes she had written throughout the year with a wistful smile on his face.

"Well aren't you a sly observer," he commented.

"Is it a girl?" she asked with a light tilt to her normally placid voice.

Draco smiled,

"Why? You want to marry me off already?"

"Of course not, I'm not ready to share you. But in six years you've never really mentioned any particular girl who means something to you."

"What about Pansy-"

"Pansy Parkinson never made you gaze wistfully out of windows, Draco darling."

He couldn't help laughing at her astuteness, but he wasn't sure how to respond so he stayed silent, chuckling.

"Who is she?" she asked.

Draco shook his head, his smile fading completely.

"You wouldn't like her," he said.

"Try me."

He sighed and leaned his head back against the wall.

"It doesn't matter, mother. We…uh…broke up. Just before I left."

"Oh no," his mother cooed in disappointment, probably hoping she would have a chance at grandchildren soon. "What happened?"

"Well…Let's just say that my being a Death Eater didn't exactly work in my favour in the end."

Narcissa nodded thoughtfully, and he didn't need to explain any further. She knew there were plenty of people, even in Slytherin, who would be too afraid to make any connections to them. And he hadn't even lied, exactly.

"I'm sorry darling. You obviously still have feelings for her."

Draco took in a deep breath.

"I do," he confirmed with a quiet murmur. His mother squeezed his hand.

"Is she pretty?"

Draco smiled happily as he was given the perfect reason to think about Hermione without any guilt or anxiety.

"She's beautiful, but it's a very natural beauty. She doesn't wear any make-up, and she's short but curvy. I enjoy watching her. There's absolutely no artifice or ugliness about her at all. But it's not her looks that drew me to her. She's incredibly smart too. We used to do our homework together, and sometimes I struggled to keep up with her."

"And is she nice?"

"She's a bloody saint, mother. She'd probably cry after she ordered our house elf to make her a cup of tea."

"Why?" Narcissa asked, confused. Her perfect pureblood upbringing didn't really allow her to fully understand the concept of house elf rights.

"No idea," he laughed, "she just feels things for others very strongly."

"And did she feel things for you? Before everything happened with the cabinet, I mean."

Draco frowned.

"I'm not sure. I didn't really give her a chance to say anything before I… left so suddenly."

Narcissa patted his hand comfortingly.

"I'm sure she adored you, Draco, all the young ladies do."

He snorted.

"She's not like them."

Narcissa smiled even more brightly, and he was pleased to see the emotion on her face at last.

"So you didn't send her flowers and perfume?"

"Merlin no. She probably would have set them on fire," he laughed, then sobered as he remembered parting from her, "I think she might have felt the same way for me, but I guess I'll never know."

Narcissa shook her head and squeezed his hand gently.

"Maybe when this is all over you can try to win her back."

Draco's gut clenched painfully. If the war ended and he ever saw Hermione again, she would barely notice him, and if she did it would only be with disdain. He had to choke down a small retching feeling at the thought.

"We'll see," he replied vaguely, not wanting to upset his mother.

"It's just nice to see you so grown up."

He forced a smile back on his face for her sake and tried to hold it as long as he could as she left the room.

….

 **14** **th** **August, 1997**

 _A bloody dragon!_

Draco couldn't believe what he'd heard. His mind was still reeling from the story that had been passed around that morning. Apparently scar face had broken into Gringotts and had gotten into the Lestrange vault, and he had taken something. Bellatrix was apoplectic; she was so furious that no one wanted to cross her path, because she was likely to incinerate them. She was crazy on a normal day, but this was another level of insanity. She had commanded that the Dark Lord not be told yet until she could find out more.

Draco had stayed completely silent and in the corner, not wanting to draw attention to himself, but when he finally made it back to his room and locked and silenced it, he couldn't stop himself from bursting into laughter.

Merlin she was brilliant.

She really had tickled a sleeping dragon.

….

 **5** **th** **May 1998**

He was waiting nervously for the first day of his trial to begin, twisting his fingers together and trying to ignore how sweaty they were. Draco closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. He had been confined to the mansion for so long on house arrest that it felt odd to be sequestered off to the side of a busy ministry corridor. The noise was quite confronting after so much solitude; a flurry of frantic activity. Most people were too busy to pay him any attention, but there were a few hard stares his direction from those who had been keeping up to date on his arrest in the daily prophet.

With his father killed in the final battle, it had been only a matter of time before the aurors caught up to him, determined to arrest at least one of the Malfoy family for the crime of being a Mafloy. There was a dark stain on the family name that he knew he would never completely be rid of. His mother had been growing increasingly crazy with worry that he would end up being thrown in the now overcrowded cells of Azkaban. He had practically forced her to take a sedative potion this morning so that she wouldn't storm into the courtroom and hex half the wizengamot. Narcissa was still reeling from the death of her husband, and losing her son as well might destroy her.

Draco groaned softly into his hands and looked back down the hallway towards the entrance to the courtroom. His heart skipped a few beats when he saw two familiar faces there, their heads bowed together in whispered conversation. It started to thud to life again as he shot to his feet and stared with unconcealed nerves and exhilaration at the distant figures of Harry Potter and… _Hermione_. They had appeared from a side room where meetings were often held, and they were hovering by the door chatting.

 _Fuck,_ he swore to himself, his eyes trailing up and down Hermione's body, as if to make sure that every little inch of her was still intact. He hadn't seen her since the final battle at Hogwarts, and that was months ago. She was frowning deeply in consternation as she spoke to Potter in low tones.

 _Will she be attending my trial?_ He thought wildly, his hands shaking by his sides as he watched her like a parched man in front of an oasis. He wanted to approach her, to ask her how she was. But he was too cowardly.

He saw Potter nod at something she said, and the boy-who-lived glanced up and met his eye. The Gryffindor gave a polite nod, but before Hermione could turn and look at him as well, the door to her right opened again.

He cursed under his breath. She had been so close to turning and catching his gaze. He desperately wanted her to look his way. But Ronald fucking Weasley had interrupted them, emerging from the same room and joining their huddle.

What Draco saw next made him want to be sick. Weasley's hand reached down and his hand wrapped possessively around Hermione's, their fingers entwining. There was no mistaking the gesture. It was what couples did when they want to show their fondness in public. When they didn't have to keep their relationship a secret. He wanted to stride over there and break Weasley's ugly fucking nose. He wanted to wrap his hands around the wanker's throat. He wanted to grab Hermione and show her who she was supposed to be with. He wanted to cry. He almost retched a bit, his mouth dry and prickly from the large amount of whiskey he had consumed the night before.

He couldn't even escape and run away from the horrific sight of the woman he loved smiling happily up at the ginger menace with affection shining in those warm brown eyes. He was expected to stay here so he could be interrogated about his activities as a Death Eater.

Eventually, he was put out of his misery, as Hermione excused herself politely, placing a little chaste kiss on her boyfriend's cheek and hugging Potter before she left. He didn't know where she was going or why she wasn't staying for the trial; he was just relieved that he didn't have to watch their ridiculous romance unfold before him any further.

 _Damn, he really wanted another drink…_

….

 **23** **rd** **October 1999**

Hermione's face was splashed all over the daily prophet once again. Her eyes were wide and bloodshot, and she looked haggard. But she was still going through her daily motions. Draco stared down at the photo of her making her way into the university she had just started an undergraduate healing course at. He smiled blearily, and couldn't quell the slight swell of triumphant at the headline.

 **GOLDEN COUPLE SPLITS: Granger Continues Trail of Broken Hearts**

Of course Rita Skeeter had embellished the whole story into a tale of sordid betrayals and tragedy. She had been attacking Hermione in the papers for years. There had been a brief period of relief when they were still at school during which she was suspiciously silent, but the stories had come back in full force this last year, with Hermione taking the role once again as her target.

Draco lifted his shot glass and drained his whiskey in one burning gulp. He had been feeling particularly masochistic when he tore out the front page of the paper at breakfast. His mother had peered over at him with a frown as he pocketed the paper. She had let out a sad little breath, but had obviously decided not to say anything, no matter how much she disapproved of his unhealthy obsession.

He ran his hand across the photo, smoothing out some of the crinkles. It had been half an hour since he had begun staring at her picture, drinking himself into a stupor at only eleven in the morning. Draco groaned and dropped his head down onto his desk. He really needed to move on with his life. He was stagnating in his depression and needed to do something. He should get out of the house, or put in more hours at the office. Or go on a date. Anything to relieve the pain and loss that plagued him every day. His mother was in a constant state of worry about him. Too many times she had been forced to enlist the house elves to drag his sorry ass to bed when he had passed out in his library. Draco nodded and resolved to try something new tomorrow, something to pull him out of this lethargy.

Then his eyes flickered down to a short passage at the bottom of the page. The tiny font had a date printed on it. The ministry's Halloweeen ball next week. Draco grinned to himself and thought it was the perfect opportunity to get out of the house. And he'd have no trouble blending into the crowd if _she_ turned up. He could watch her as much as he wanted.

….

 **October 28** **th,** **2001**

Potter was silent for a few minutes, watching Draco stare out the window. Flashes of lightening lit up the room like angry fireworks as the storm churned around them. It was so early in the morning the sun was not even beginning to peak through the thunderous clouds. It had not risen yet.

Draco sighed and lowered his head. Potter had asked him what it was like after the war for him. They had briefly swapped stories about their time after Dumbledore died, but neither of them had wanted to dwell on it too much. And he had only been able to share a few scattered memories of his life since then. He was definitely a cautionary tale for the broken hearted. He was a mess. And Potter had looked increasingly depressed just listening to him. So eventually they had simply fallen into silence. But he didn't exactly appreciate the pity coming off the other boy in waves. It was unsettling to be the focus of such pathetic Gryffindor emotion. Eventually Potter cleared his throat and glanced furtively up at him.

"So…uh…that's it then?"

Draco nodded glumly.

"That's it."

They met each other's eye, both feeling a bit sadder from having shared the story together.

"Okay. Well I actually have one more question…"

Draco frowned at the serious edge to the other boy's voice. Potter was actually scowling across at him, perched on the edge of the couch and clearly building up the nerve to continue.

"What is it?" he asked with trepidation.

"Well…it's about that night at the manor. When the three of us were captured by those snatchers…"

Draco felt his blood run cold. His eyes widened and he stared at Potter with undisguised pain. He was really hoping that he didn't have to talk about that. He had managed to gloss over that part in his recount. He still had the most violent nightmares about it. Sometimes he would wake up in a cold sweat, crying out at the top of his lungs. And he could never get back to sleep after that. His ears would be ringing with the memory of her screams, of the haunted look in her eyes as she peered up at him, begging him to step in and help her.

"I…I was…" he started to stammer.

"You told your father and aunt that you didn't recognise us. You didn't tell them it was Hermione even though you knew."

Draco flushed a bright shade of red. He shot to his feet and paced across the front of the bookshelves like a caged animal.

"Of course I didn't," he spat angrily, but Potter had risen to his feet as well.

"Yeh. But you _did_ stand there and watch while she was tortured. And you did nothing."

Draco winced and lowered his head.

"That's…not exactly true."

Potter frowned.

"What do you mean?"

He spun around and paced back and forth, sure to wear a hole in the rug. He ran his fingers through his hair thoughtlessly, scratching at his scalp.

"Do you really think that Aberforth just happened to be looking into that weird mirror thing at that exact moment you did? Dobby asked him to check which of the dungeons you were in so that he could apparate in there without splinching himself."

Potter's eyes widened in surprise and his jaw dropped open.

"Wait… I thought Aberforth sent Dobby there!"

Draco pursed his lips and glared at the other boy.

"No. _I_ called for Dobby. He just checked in with Aberforth first before he came, to be safe."

Potter was completely lost for words. He gaped like a fish for a few seconds before spluttering and running his hands through his messy brown hair.

"Woah…wait a minute. _YOU_ sent Dobby there?"

Draco nodded numbly, pausing in his pacing to flash a guilty look in Potter's direction.

"Yeh. He always had a soft spot for me when I was a kid. And then when he got a job at Hogwarts he would sometimes visit me in the dorm room and bring me mountains of food that he smuggled out of the kitchen."

Harry's lips twitched up into a sad smile.

"Brave little elf," he murmured in a slightly choked up voice. Draco just nodded stiffly and turned away towards the window again. His face was lit up by another splinter of lightening piercing the sky, followed by the booming crack of thunder overhead.

"I didn't realise…um…I didn't intend to put his life in danger…" he muttered mournfully, and glanced over to see Potter nodded his head in agreement.

"I know. Neither did I. But… you did save Hermione's life."

Draco shrugged uncomfortably.

"I suppose," he said with reluctance. He didn't exactly feel good about it, considering he lived daily – and nightly – with the sounds of her torture still echoing through his mind.

Draco turned away for a few quiet moments then, pushing away memories of the incorrigible house elf and Hermione being crucioed so that he wouldn't sink further into the murky place that his recollections had taken him. He wasn't aware of Potter coming up behind him until he heard the other boy clear his throat. He spun around to see the Gryffindor boy standing there looking extremely sheepish, practically squirming with how uncomfortable he was opening up about his feelings in front of his former nemesis.

"Look…Draco…" he began in an awkward stutter, "I just wanted to say that no matter what happens, or whether Hermione ever recovers everything, or how she reacts…well….er…you're a good person."

Draco's eyes widened and his eyebrows shot up on his forehead. Harry blushed profusely. "Don't look so surprised," he said wryly, "I know we've hated each other for years, but I respect what you've had to go through, and who you've become."

Draco swallowed and nodded. Then, when Harry presented his hand, he quite happily went to shake it. But before their hands could touch, they both jumped in shock at the sudden crashing sound that echoed out from the bedrooms. They stared at each other in stunned surprise before turning, as one, to stare at the hallway. There had definitely been a loud noise coming from behind Hermione's door. Draco felt his heart start to race and his mind went fuzzy until all he could hear was the thudding of his pulse in his ears.

"Hermione-" Harry blurted, but he didn't have to. Both boys immediately strode over towards the room, the Gryffindor boy actually vaulting the couch in his frantic need to get to his friend. Draco trailed behind as they bolted into the hallway and threw open the door to her bedroom. His eyes were frantic as he searched the room for her, his skin prickling right down to his fingertips with nervous energy. The sharp stabbing sickness in his gut was a clear sign of his anxiety; his whole body seemed to be bracing itself for pain. He peered over Potter's shoulder and saw her, and his mind screamed in panic.

Hermione was slumped over on the floor next to the bed, her hands clenched tightly and her eyes pressed closed as she tried to breathe deeply. Her hair was a bit wild from thrashing around on the bed, and her cheeks were wet with tears. Harry rushed over to her side, taking her shaking frame in his arms and holding her to him. She was mumbling under her breath to herself, but Draco couldn't hear what she was saying.

"Hey, it's alright. I've got you, Mione-" Harry cooed soothingly, rocking her to and fro and rubbing his hand across her back.

"My head hearts," she moaned, her eyes still sealed shut as her face scrunched up with pain. Draco felt a wave of nausea that he had caused this; he had never wanted to hurt her, but it seemed he had caused her more pain than anything else ever had. She would have been better off without him.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked with trepidation, frowning when she let out an anguished sob. She trembled silently for a while, pulling herself together before she nodded against his chest.

"Yes," she croaked, "I think so."

Harry coached her to take a few deep breaths, and she seemed to sit a little more comfortably after each one, though her face was still crumpled in a rictus of despair.

"How long has it been?" she asked, her voice muffled by Harry's shirt. Draco stood awkwardly in the doorway, just watching in silent dread as she regained her senses. He was fearing the moment when she became aware that he was there too. Maybe he should make a run for it while he still had the chance. But his feet wouldn't move.

"A few hours," Harry responded, stroking his hand over her curls and igniting an irrational spark of jealousy that Draco quickly smothered. He had learned to control such envious reactions pretty efficiently over the last couple of years. If he hadn't, it would have eaten him alive. He knew logically that they were just friends; but he hated seeing her enfolded in the arms of any man who wasn't _him._

Hermione groaned and another few tears squeezed themselves through her eyelids, clinging for a brief second to her lashes before spilling down her cheeks and nose to soak into Harry's shirt.

"It felt longer for me," she mumbled in a hoarse voice, shuddering. Her eyes blinked open slowly and she leaned back to stare at Harry with wide, horrified eyes, "I know what's been wrong with me…" she said in a quick, panicked breath. But Harry just raised his hand calmly and shushed her.

"It's alright. I know too. Dr Grace was here, and then…well…" Harry trailed off nervously, and it was at that moment that Hermione's eyes flickered ever so slightly over his shoulder. They widened in shock and incredulity when she recognised Draco's silhouette in the doorway. Draco took a terrified step forwards, wanting to reassure her, but she flung herself backwards out of Harry's arms and pressed herself up against the bed.

" _No,_ " she choked in a raspy breath, holding her hands out in front of her as if in a defensive gesture. Maybe she thought he was going to obliviate her again. The freshest memory that she would have was no doubt the one of him cursing her in the Slytherin dungeons before he left her in Snape's office. She was probably scared that he was here to renew the charm. He was standing there stupidly, a dark looming figure in the doorway, his face haunted by his need to see her and to talk to her.

Harry grasped her shoulders in his hands and steadied her, trying to calm her down by telling her that she was safe and that she could trust him. But it was obvious that she wasn't capable of listening.

Her eyes were glued to his, and neither of them was willing to glance away or even blink. He couldn't have looked away even if he had wanted to. _She remembered_. After years of suffering alone, thinking that he would always bear this burden in forsaken silence, she knew _everything_ that had happened between them. And even if she despised him for the rest of her life, at least he would mean something to her, instead of nothing.

But as the awareness of what was happening and who was standing before her crystallised in Hermione's gaze, he saw her flush with hot, white fury. Her stare burned him where he stood, awakening a fire inside him that he hadn't felt in many months. He had tried to numb himself with alcohol and lose himself in self-pitying isolation. But this was a feeling so intense and alive that he wondered if he had also just woken from a deep sleep. His skin tingled with so much repressed desire and joy and despair and fear that he thought he would shatter into a million tiny pieces if she got any closer to him, even as he secretly wished that she would. He stared at her hungrily, desperately, not caring that they had an audience or that she was still huddled away from him like a scared child. Slowly, the muscles in her face twitched and tightened from the turmoil of emotions, and Hermione's expression morphed into one of rage. Her hands clenched up again and more tears streaked down her face like silent drops of accusation.

"You did this to me," she whispered in disbelief. She slowly pulled herself up, using the frame of the bed for strength, and stood with shaky knees. Harry rose too and looked between them with unconcealed concern.

"You…you…" Hermione spluttered wildly, her brows coming together in a deep frown as she panted out heavy breaths into the air between them.

Draco wasn't sure what he should say. You could have cut the tension between them with a knife, the room practically quivered with furious energy. He wanted to explain himself, to drop to his knees before her and beg for forgiveness. But for some reason, it all seemed so trite. How could his apology mean anything to her after what he put her through, how he had violated her? Nevertheless he took an unsteady step forwards and spread his hands out in a peaceful gesture.

"Hermione-" he said her name with so much pent up emotion that it came out like a whispered prayer, "I'm…I'm so sor-"

" _Don't!_ " she shrieked, pushing off the bed to stand upright, her hair crackling with unrestrained magic, "Don't you _dare_ try to apologise, you spineless coward!" she spat the words towards him like a curse.

"Please, just le me-"

Before he could finish his plea, Hermione stomped the couple of steps across the room towards him, tears blurring her vision. She raised her hand high in the air and with a resounding _crack_ she slapped him clean across the face. Draco's head snapped to the side and his skin stung with the blow. He had seen it coming - she had never been good at hiding her thoughts and feelings – but he had not bothered to stop her. He deserved much worse. He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep, calming breath. When he opened them again, she was crying in big heaving sobs, wiping her cheeks and runny nose with the back of her hand.

He swallowed heavily, feeling his own eyes prickle with tears.

"How _could_ you? Do you have any idea what I've been going through?" she moaned, her voice piercing through the sound of bellowing thunder outside. Her words were strained with little sobs and she tangled her fingers through her already messy hair as she spoke, "I could barely sit my NEWTs I was so exhausted. I still wake up from nightmares in a cold sweat _every night_ because my mind has been fighting off the curse. I thought I was _dying!_ I went to muggle doctors and got my brain scanned because they thought it might be a fucking brain tumour!" she took a shaky breath and gripped her hair firmly at the roots, looking panicked. "It's ruined everything! The first time Ron and I slept together I _cried!_ I actually cried when it was over because I felt so guilty and upset, but I didn't know why. I broke his heart because the mere ghost of you somewhere deep in my mind haunted me every time we were together. I couldn't even _look_ twice at another man without hating myself. I've distanced myself from most of my friends and family because I feel so overwhelmed by emotions I can't even…breathe…when I'm around them…"

Hermione looked like she was starting to hyperventilate. She was taking big gulping breaths of air, sucking it in as if she was drowning. She started to sway on the spot a bit, her legs trembling beneath her thin frame. Harry, who had been standing in stunned silence behind her, quickly stepped forward and placed his steady hands on her shoulders.

"Mione, you need to-"

"NO!" she shook him off roughly, and he saw Harry recoil a bit from the spark of anger that physically stung him. She was practically vibrating from repressed magic bubbling below the surface of her body. Draco shook his head numbly, his eyes wide with horror at the thought of the misery he had caused.

"I didn't mean to…hurt you…" he whispered pitifully, and a tear of his own escaped his lashes and dripped sorrowfully down his nose.

Hermione let out a little scream of anguish and pressed her hands to his chest, giving him an almighty shove. He stumbled a step backwards, but she just followed him.

"You told me you loved me and then you abused my mind! You took away my free will. You total…complete…asshole! You don't even know what love is! You _LIAR,_ " she punctuated each word with a shove, until his back was pushed up against the wall next to the door.

When she couldn't shove him backwards any further, Hermione lost it. She closed her eyes as the sobs overtook her and her body crumpled forwards a bit as if she were in physical pain.

"I _HATE_ you," she bawled, and Draco felt like his heart would be ripped from his chest, the pressure of it beating against his ribs was so intense. The nausea that had been growing in the pit of his stomach was now overwhelming, and he wanted to retch. He felt sweat gather on his brow and upper lip.

"I hate you," she whispered quietly, pounding her fists gently against his chest now, "I hate you, I hate you…"

Draco blinked back his tears and took hold of her fists firmly in his hands. Her eyes jolted open to stare at him as he peered down at her imploringly.

"Hermione…I didn't want to do it, but I-"

Her gaze darkened quickly and she jerked her hands out of his grasp. He was standing so close to her he could have counted the freckles on her nose, and he could see the golden flecks in her big brown eyes. Draco shivered and stared down at her with a terrible feeling of hopelessness as her face shut down into a grim determination.

"Get out of here… _now_ ," she growled.

Draco's head spun as he looked down at her. He wanted to grab her in his arms and beg her to let him stay. He licked his cracked lips and tried to speak, but Hermione interrupted him before he could say anything.

"GET OUT! GET OUT! GET OUT!" she screamed in his face, and he shivered. His face crumpled up in despair at the look of sheer fury and betrayal on her face. He had done this to her. He had driven her mad with his stupidity all those years ago, and now he was paying the ultimate price. When it looked like she would start hitting him again, he stumbled sideways into the door. He wiped at his damp cheeks brusquely, angry at himself for daring to let even a slither of hope grow in his heart. He nodded numbly, sniffing a bit as he backed through the door. As he stumbled into the hallway and away from Hermione, he heard her behind him in the bedroom. With a low moaning sound, she started to cry all over again, and it renewed the ache in his chest tenfold. As he distantly heard Harry trying to comfort her, he burst out of the apartment at a run, slumping down outside the front door and desperately trying to focus long enough to apparate back to the mansion. With the sound of Hermione's cries muffled behind him, he disappeared with a _crack_ that echoed through the building, hoping distantly in the depths of his grief that he wouldn't splinch himself.

….

 **Okay, I think I need a nap. I hope I didn't make anybody too depressed. More chapters to come, and mostly in present time now. I really appreciated all your awesome reviews last week! It definitely helped me get this chapter done. More please :)**


	18. Chapter 18

**Author's Note: Massive reaction to that last chapter. I'm pleased that so many of you could really empathise with Hermione's reaction. I enjoyed writing that whole scene, even though it was emotionally draining! More angst to follow… As always, JKR is the master of this universe.**

 **….**

"But I haven't seen her for a week! And mum wants her to come to family lunch this Sunday at the burrow. She can't still have the flu, it's been ages."

Hermione tried to shut out the sound of Ron's whining voice echoing down the hallway, stuffing her face under her pillow and groaning. She tugged the blankets up higher to make a little soundproof cocoon for herself, shifting up her knees to rest against her chest. For some reason being curled up into a ball and smothered in blankets was the only way she could seem to rid herself of the chilling feeling of misery she had been trying to block out over the last few days. Harry had been an absolute godsend for her the last week. He had handled everything on her behalf, such as getting her excused from her classes at the university and covering for her absence with friends and family.

Of course, she knew that he had been desperately curious to talk to her about what she had remembered, but so far she had flatly refused to discuss anything with him. He brought her small snacks and cups of tea, but she would just shake her head and purse her lips closed tightly when he tried to start a conversation. It probably wasn't very fair to him, since he definitely deserved her honesty after everything he had gone through.

Of course, she knew that Draco had told him the basic story while they had been waiting out her coma. But he was clearly keen to find out what she was thinking now.

Hermione whimpered and scrunched her eyes shut tight. She simply didn't know what to think. She had spent a lot of time sleeping since she had woken up from her coma. She had felt emotionally and physically drained. She slept deeply and throughout the day. Harry didn't have to pretend very hard when he was trying to convince people she had the flu. It had certainly felt like a kind of sickness.

She tried her hardest not to even think about Draco at all. Because every time she did, she felt a sharp pain in her chest like her heart was pressing insistently up against her ribcage, and no matter how hard she tried to suck in a deep lungful of air, she just couldn't breathe properly. He had made her fall in love with him and then he had betrayed her in the worst way. _He_ was the one who had kissed her. He had pushed them over the edge, to take that next step from friendship to something more. And maybe she could have forgiven and understood if he had talked to her honestly about it. He could have told her what his mission was, or taught her occlumency to help shield her thoughts. Hell, he could have even done the same memory spell, but then at least have owned up to it once the war was over. He had been a selfish coward, and the only reason he had insisted on waiting around with Harry that night had been to try and save his own skin from Azkaban if she decided to press charges. Luckily for him she wouldn't pursue it, but that didn't mean she wasn't still furious for the way he had stolen her free will and abused her mind mere seconds after telling her he loved her.

And the worst part of it all was the horrible _guilt_ that had been eating away at her every single moment since she had woken up.

Because hadn't she done the exact same thing to her parents?

Hermione shook her head angrily against the mattress, messing up her already wild curls. She really didn't want to think about it right now. It just gave her a headache. Distantly she heard the front door close, and she breathed a sigh of relief that Ron had gotten bored with his pestering and had left. It wasn't long before the creaking of the door signalled that Harry had come back into her room. It was silent for a few moments as he was probably trying to think of something to say to her, and Hermione waited a bit impatiently.

"Mione…we need to talk about this-"

"Go _away,_ Harry," she yelled childishly from under the quilt, her voice heavily muffled and weak from lack of use. She kept her eyes screwed shut, even though it was pitch black under the covers, hoping that he would leave her alone.

"No," he argued, and she felt the bed dip beside her as he sat down. He grappled with the quilt a bit, before she got frustrated and threw it off her face to glare at him. He looked sheepish, but determined.

"Please, Harry," she murmured, her voice soft, "I _really_ don't want to talk about it yet."

Harry sighed and ran his fingers through his hair in an all too familiar gesture.

"Alright. But this isn't healthy. You _need_ to talk to someone about it sooner or later. And you also need to get out of those clothes and have a shower because you _stink!_ " He wrinkled his nose up at her, and Hermione scoffed and gave him a little shove.

"Hey!" she protested with a laugh, but he just shrugged and shot her a cheeky smile.

"Come on," he wheedled in an overly cheerful voice, "Get up and wash your hair while I make you some breakfast."

Hermione groaned and tried to hide under the covers again, but Harry grabbed her wrists and stopped her, giving her sides a little tickle until she surrendered.

"Fine! Stop it, you big spoilsport. I'll go have a bloody shower."

"That's the spirit!"

She reluctantly dragged herself up out of bed, smacking him on the shoulder as she followed him out slowly into the living room, scraping her heels lazily along the floorboards. As soon as she crossed the threshold, she was hit by a wave of sweet, floral aromas, and she stared in disbelief at the three or four ridiculously extravagant bouquets of flowers scattered around in vases haphazardly on various bookshelves. There were all kinds of colours and forms, each more exotically stunning than the last. And in the centre there was a vase of the most unique purple peonies she had ever seen. Her mouth literally dropped open in amazement.

"Harry Potter!" she hissed in disbelief, "I thought we agreed that your rabid fan-girl squad wouldn't have any knowledge of our address!"

Harry shook his head with a blush and an awkward smile.

"Er…actually…they're not for me."

Hermione instantly frowned, her stomach clenching.

"What? Then…where…"

His eyes darted around as he scratched at the back of his neck.

"They're from Draco," he admitted finally, and she couldn't help but stare around the room with a strange flutter of something in her chest for a moment. Then she felt her skin prickle with the familiar anger that had been her frequent companion all week. Whipping her wand out, Hermione quickly set about banishing each and every one of the beautiful bouquets, relishing each abrupt flick of her wand. She paused a bit before the last one, swallowing the lump in her throat at the sight of the elegant peonies that were so _her._ Then she expelled them along with the rest, turning her back on the room as her eyes betrayed her and prickled a bit with tears of grief.

"Well…" Harry began in a falsely jovial voice, "That wasn't an overreaction at all!"

Hermione shot him a scowl and stomped over to the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind her.

What was Draco trying to pull? She thought she had made it quite clear to him the other day that she wanted nothing to do with him. It had been years since they left each other in Hogwarts that terrible night. Surely he wasn't still in love with her…? Maybe he just felt guilty, so he was doing his clumsy best to try and make it up to her. They had been good friends once, after all.

Hermione let out a deep sigh as she got into the small shower cubicle. She turned the taps on hard so that scalding water blasted out, sending steam rising up and filling the bathroom. Once she had finished undressing and was standing under the hot stream, her skin burned and she leant her forehead against the cool tiled wall in front of her.

Draco had always been so sweet. The lush purple peonies flashed across her mind and she whimpered when a wave of sorrow and yearning hit her.

Of course, it hadn't started that way. He had been rude and abrasive and stubborn in the beginning. But it had all been a defensive front, masking the vulnerable boy that was inside, the one who was terrified and desperately trying to survive and save his family. The one who had kissed her so passionately, pressed her against a wall and whispered her name as if she were the most precious thing in the world to him.

Hermione felt a lone tear drip from her eyelashes and make a trail down her cheek that become lost in the cascade of hot water from the shower.

Hermione shook her head angrily. She had to be strong. She couldn't let herself get swept away by the fresh memories of what he had been like in sixth year. Too much had happened since then, too much had changed.

 _Because I'm in love with you…_

The recently resurfaced memory of him saying the words to her in that pitiful, choked up voice was taunting her, tugging at her foolish Gryffindor heart, as he would have called it. She slapped some shampoo into her hair and furiously scrubbed at the roots until they stung.

He had cursed her. He had made her think that she might be dying or going mad. And most importantly he hadn't _trusted_ her. He had just gone ahead and violated her memories with no hint that he had any faith or confidence in her. That hurt. It hurt so much that she could barely breathe.

With a frustrated groan, Hermione tilted her head under the faucet and let the hot water wash away her tears. Maybe Harry was right. She did need to talk to someone. Because her strategy so far of bottling it all down and hoping that the feelings would go away wasn't exactly working out too well. And Harry had been a saint this last week. He had certainly earned her honesty.

And Hermione would be lying if she didn't admit that a part of her was morbidly curious about what Draco had told him while they were waiting together. It couldn't hurt to ask…

….

If there was one thing that Narcissa Malfoy prided herself on, it was her calm attention to detail. Running Malfoy manor all these years had certainly been a challenge, but she felt that she had handled the sometimes-chaotic task with great decorum. Especially considering her husband had been a Death Eater, and her son was frequently unpredictable and occasionally mischievous as a child. It had taken her almost a year to completely rid her home of any traces of Voldemort and his followers, and even longer to deal with the psychological damage inflicted by the horrifying ordeal. Every day was a still a constant struggle without her husband by her side, but he had made his bed when he had invited the Death Eaters into their home, and now he was lying in it, so to speak. And she felt strangely comforted by the simple activities in her now solitary life. Narcissa was a master of being in control of her emotions, and she had adapted to this new way of living with a dignity she could be proud of.

But lately the delicate equilibrium she had fought so hard for had been turned on its head.

For years now since the war she had dealt with Draco's moods with a ruthless efficiency. Narcissa wasn't an affectionate mother; she didn't coddle her son or shower him with praise and intimacy. But she did know how to manage him. She had placed house elves on round the clock supervision, making sure that he was fed, bathed and that he was kept mildly occupied with business matters to try and give him some kind of purpose. Her son had been floundering ever since the end of the war. He had sunk into a depression that terrified her, even if she never showed it to anyone, not even to him.

But they had settled into a fairly effective routine together over the years. She kept him physically healthy and organised, and he tried not to make a public spectacle of himself. It wasn't ideal, but they both kept surviving, and that was all she could ask for.

That had all changed, of course, a little over a week ago. He had practically raced out of the house in his best dress robes one night, ranting about some ministry function that it was imperative he attend. Draco went to all the big events these days, but usually came home even more miserable than when he left. She hadn't even been given a chance to stop him. And he had been gone all night. Narcissa had sat awake in the drawing room for hours, a very uncharacteristic move on her part, waiting for him to return. She dreaded to think what the papers would say about him the next morning. Draco hadn't been stable in a long time, and she was afraid he would go over the edge and get himself into trouble. Sure enough, he had stumbled home early in the morning, just as the sun was rising, making the most enormous ruckus you could imagine. She had watched in horror as her darling son had rampaged around the dining room across the hall from her. He had hurled endless volleys of expensive china plates into the walls, upending chairs and side tables, and finally whipping out his wand and practically obliterating an old portrait of his great grandfather that hung above the banquet table. None of the elves had been able to restore poor old Cornelius to his former state. Narcissa had been shocked out of her horrified staring when her poor boy had crumpled up on the floor, a crying wreck, as he sobbed and called that girl's name again and again until he was hoarse.

That girl, of course, was Hermione Granger. The witch her son was madly in love with.

Narcissa knew that Miss Granger was the reason for her son's deep melancholy these last couple of years. It hadn't taken her very long to figure out that Draco had been pining for her ever since he left school. And quite frankly she had been stunned when she figured it out. Her son had always been quite outspoken about muggleborns when he was young; he had always loved to mimic his father, and she knew he had worshipped Lucius when he was a little boy, wanting to be just like him (usually to no avail). So to find out that he had fallen for not only a muggleborn, but one of the most infamous muggleborn witches of her era, was a total shock. Of course, she had always known that her Draco was really quite tender hearted underneath all that posturing. He took after the Black women – well, maybe not Bellatrix.

It had almost broken her heart to see Draco's reaction to the girl being captured and brought to Malfoy Manor by snatchers during the war. She had seen the expression on her son's face, as if all the blood had been drained from him. He had been shaking so hard she had been forced to reach down and grasp his hand tightly in hers to restrain him. That was when she first knew. He had tried several times to jolt forwards and intervene, but she had held him firmly against her side, whispering soothing words into his ear. Eventually she had convinced him to step out of the room and he had practically bolted. Given the events that occurred afterwards, she wouldn't be surprised if he had been involved in Dobby the elf's ploy to rescue them. His exit from the drawing room had been suspiciously anxious, as if he were planning something.

A short visit to Severus had been all it took to confirm her suspicions, and her heart had been continuing to break for her son ever since that day. Whatever horrible thing had happened between him and Miss Granger, it had destroyed him. Draco was a shell of his former self.

And now, she was more afraid than ever for him.

Narcissa paused outside the door to Draco's quarters, leaning her head down to try and listen to what was going on inside. It was silent.

He had barely left his room all week. She had seen him once or twice pacing around like a caged animal in the hallways, but he hadn't spoken to her, and he had refused to come to breakfast, which they usually shared together.

Narcissa took a deep breath and placed her hand on the old silver doorknob. She had seen enough. With a harsh creaking sound, the door opened and she peered her head in and rapped her knuckles softly onto the wood.

"Draco darling?"

A blond head lifted lazily from the pile of pillows stacked in the centre of the bed, but when he saw it was her, he dropped it back down with a tired huff.

"What do you want, mother?"

Narcissa tutted and made her way slowly over to the bed. He was a mess. His hair was sticking up in all directions, and there was even a dark shade of stubble circling his jaw. Really, it was a very simple charm, but he hadn't even bothered to clean up his facial hair these past few days.

"I want you to be happy, Draco…" she started with a sigh, sitting herself gingerly on the edge of the bed and placing her hand comfortingly on his leg, "And you haven't been happy in a very long time."

Draco peered up at her blearily.

"Sorry to disappoint," he drawled, "but you'd better get used to it."

Narcissa took a deep breath and rubbed his calf in a soothing circle, giving him a soft little squeeze as she smiled sadly at him.

"I don't want to. I want my son back. Please…Draco sweetheart… tell me what's wrong."

He swallowed briefly but then just glared at her, a muscle twitching in his jaw.

"You wouldn't understand," he finally said under his breath, flopping back onto the pillows.

She pursed her lips and waited a while before she spoke, debating the wisdom of her words. Eventually she worked up the courage to tackle the issue head on.

"This has something to do with that muggleborn girl doesn't it?" she asked quietly, her tone unavoidably scornful. As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Draco shot up on the bed, his clothes rumpled and his gaze ferocious.

"Don't call her that. Her name is Hermione."

Narcissa held up her hands is a calming gesture and nodded.

"Okay then. It's about…Hermione," she said the name cautiously, deliberately. Draco clenched his hair in his fingers.

"Well there's no point denying it now," he shot her a suspicious glare, "how did you know?"

"Just because I don't say it out loud doesn't mean I'm ignorant, Draco."

Draco groaned and leaned his forehead onto his knees. He rubbed his hands over his face and his shoulder shook slightly.

"I totally fucked everything up," he muttered into his hands.

"Language, darling," she scolded gently, but he just looked up at her with his sad, steely blue eyes. Eyes that looked so much like his father's, even though in reality they shared little else in common besides appearance.

"I made a huge mess of it."

Narcissa grimaced and placed her hand on his, curling her fingers around him.

"Surely you can fix it! You've never been the sort to give up."

Draco scoffed and gestured towards one end of the room where there were several bins stuffed with a chaotic mess of flowers, stems up.

"I tried. I sent her flowers every day, but then they all appeared back here this morning in a big rotting pile."

Narcissa frowned and felt her heart clench at the look of despair on her son's face.

"Was what you did so very bad?"

She wondered how any girl could resist her son when he was trying to be charming. But so much time had passed that Hermione must be very angry with him indeed.

"Yes," he said darkly, staring at a blank spot somewhere behind her, "I don't blame her for hating me."

Narcissa narrowed her eyes at the dejected look on his face. She had stood to one side for years now and watched as he struggled to recover from the pain of a love gone awry. She had stayed in control and managed him as best she could. But now it was time for her to step up and help him flourish. She had never been the world' s most loving mother, but perhaps now she could try to change that.

"I think you should tell me what happened."

Draco flopped back on the bed and groaned.

"I can't, mother. You'll be so disappointed in me."

"I don't care. You can't keep going like this, Draco. You're hurting yourself and I can't stand to one side any longer. Now tell me what happened, or I'll get Mitsy to come up here and redecorate your room in lavender _and_ redesign your entire wardrobe from scratch!"

Draco's lip quirked up for a moment in humour, before he sobered and scowled up at her through narrowed eyes.

"So this is what mother's sound like when they nag," he pointed out drolly, but she just crossed her arms imperiously over her chest, " _Fine!_ I'll tell you." He paused and took a deep breath, closing his eyes, "We became best friends in sixth year, I fell in love with her then freaked out and wiped her memory and doomed myself to a life without her, but the charm backfired and about a week ago she remembered everything. She was royally pissed off, told me she hated me and kicked me out of her apartment."

Narcissa felt her head spin and she pressed a fingertip to her temple.

"Maybe you should go back to the beginning and give me a little more detail darling, I don't think I quite understood all that."

Draco rubbed his face again, his knuckles white as he dredged up the courage to talk through what he was feeling.

"Years of staying silent, and then I end up spilling the beans twice in one bloody week," he grumbled, but propped himself up on his pillow and took a deep breath. Narcissa just waited patiently for him to continue.

"I suppose it all started when I was trying to fix the vanishing cabinet in my sixth year, and I was having trouble sleeping…"

Narcissa nodded encouragingly, summoning a pot of tea from the kitchens and listening raptly as Draco launched into his story once more. She was going to make damn sure that Miss Hermione Granger didn't ruin her son's life, even if she had to step in and do something about it herself.

...

Hermione pushed her food around her plate nervously. She kept glancing up at Harry as she ate, nibbling on her eggs slowly because she was having a difficult time swallowing. For some reason everything she put in her mouth tasted like ash. Although she felt much cleaner and awake after her shower, it had done nothing to alleviate the drumming pain in her head that had plagued her constantly since she had woken up over a week ago. She suspected it was mostly psychosomatic; she had sunk into such a deep melancholy that her body felt almost feverish.

Harry cleared his throat awkwardly and shifted in his seat, and Hermione sighed, knowing that she just had to face her fears and get things off her chest. It was worth a try, and she would entrust Harry with her life.

"I don't know where to begin…" she murmured quietly, glancing up at him with a sheepish smile. Harry almost dropped his fork, before recovering his senses and trying to look overly casual. He failed, but she appreciated the effort nonetheless.

"Well…er…okay. Draco pretty much went through the whole story from when you became friends in sixth year."

Hermione blanched.

"How much did he tell you exactly?" she asked with a blush, thinking of some of their more intimate moments together. Harry reddened a bit as well, and tried to avoid eye contact by studiously piling his fork with eggs.

"Probably too much," he muttered uncomfortably, and Hermione groaned a bit with embarrassment.

"That can't have been fun for you," she commented at last, smiling softly when she noticed Harry's decidedly traumatised expression. He shrugged a bit and finally met her eye.

"Well, luckily he did paraphrase quite a bit. I didn't exactly have to listen to any of the gory details."

Hermione finally lowered her fork and chortled, shaking her head at his obvious horror.

"I'm sure it can't have been worse than you calling it _wet._ "

Harry chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck.

"It was a hundred times worse, actually. And I can't believe I was so stupid and self-absorbed in sixth year that I didn't even notice that my best friend was hanging out with Draco bloody Malfoy in secret! I feel like such a duffer!"

Hermione smirked and reached over to pat his hand condescendingly.

"You have your moments," she responded, before sobering and shooting him a sincere little frown of guilt, "I'm really sorry I didn't tell you. I just…"

Harry held up a hand, smiling.

"It's okay. At the time I would have flipped about it. I wasn't exactly fond of either Malfoy or Snape that year. I understand why you kept it secret from me."

Hermione released a deep sigh of relief.

"Thank you," she murmured, and he squeezed her hand in return.

"Hermione, you've always had my back. Don't get my wrong, Ron is still my best friend…but you stayed with me through everything. You sacrificed so much time and time again, and that means a lot to me. You're my family."

Hermione felt her eyes prick a bit and she gave him a watery smile.

"Stop it," she scolded gently, "I've cried enough this week!"

Harry chuckled and pushed his plate away with a grimace of determination.

"Good. So now that I've buttered you up a bit, you need to try and remember not to hate me for what I'm about to say…"

Hermione frowned and sat a bit straighter in her seat.

"What?" she asked suspiciously.

"Well…er…" he paused for a moment, at a loss for words, before taking a deep breath of encouragement, "Is it… really so bad what Draco did?"

Hermione felt the colour drain from her face, and a shudder bristled up her spine. The look she gave Harry was cold.

"Yes," she said firmly, furrowing her brows together in a deep scowl, "Of course it is!"

Harry sighed and messed up his hair.

"Ok, I get it. He made a huge mistake, and he stuffed up the spell and kept it all a big secret. But he did it because he loves you and he wanted to protect you."

Hermione grit her teeth together, watching her friend sternly. She didn't blame him really for his words; he was a bleeding heart Gryffindor to the core. But the very idea of forgiving Draco was difficult for her to grasp right now. Maybe because the memory of him pointing his wand in her face and cursing her was still so vivid in her mind.

"Draco does _not_ love me."

"Uh…Hermione…"

"No. I don't care what he might have said to you. If he even knew what love was, he would have _respected_ me and trusted me enough to make my own decisions. "

Harry bit into his lip and blushed a bit.

"It wasn't anything he said, Hermione. It was just how he looked when he was talking about you. Even when he was reminiscing about the two of you arguing or fighting, it just made him light up. "

Hermione scoffed.

"It's been years, Harry. I'm sure he's moved on."

Harry shook his head vigorously, leaning forward and fixing her with a direct stare.

"He hasn't. The guy has been destroying himself ever since he left Hogwarts that night in sixth year. He has spent every single second regretting what he did, and loving you with no hope of you ever returning it."

Hermione gazed at her friend in disbelief. She hadn't seen Harry get so worked up about something in a long time. He wasn't even blushing anymore. He was completely serious, and the sincerity that shone from his eyes made her shiver with newly forming doubt.

"What do you mean destroying himself?"

"Have you seen him in the papers since the war?"

"Sometimes… he's always boozing and partying in the society pages-"

Harry shook his head curtly.

"No, he's drowning his sorrows."

Hermione snorted and bit into her bottom lip so hard that she was worried she might draw blood.

"You sound like you care about him," she accused, and Harry sort of shrugged casually in response.

"I care about _you,_ " he retorted, "and I can tell how much he does too."

Hermione blinked, frowning.

"He cursed me!"

"He made a mistake trying to save your life. And at Malfoy Manor he really did save your life."

Her mouth dropped open stupidly and she felt her skin crawl unpleasantly at the memory. She had spent most nights since the war trying to pretend that the whole horrific event had never happened. She still had nightmares about the mind-bending pain that had coursed through her as she writhed on the floor. And she also remembered the blond head of the boy staring at her from the other side of the room.

"Uh, _no,"_ she corrected firmly, her voice cracking, "He watched me being tortured and did nothing. Dobby saved me."

Harry squirmed a bit in his seat, but his stare was unwavering.

"Actually, Draco did. He was the one who called for Dobby."

" _What?_ "

Hermione's whole body froze, and she clenched her hands up into fists involuntarily to stop herself from shaking. Her mouth went instantly dry, and when she tried to swallow it caused a painful spasm in her throat. She was petrified by the feeling of relief that washed over her in that instant. All week she had been conflicted by the new memories of _her_ Draco, her sweet and funny Draco that she had opened her heart to at school, and the cold, steely grey eyes that had watched her being tortured by his aunt. Hermione had been haunted every second by the cruelty of discovering that the man who had professed his love to her was the same one who had watched her writhing on the floor of his home and had done nothing.

She gaped at Harry numbly, distantly aware that he was talking, but not really taking it in. He was rambling a bit, trying to explain what had really happened, but she was too busy trying to control her breathing and calm the pounding in her ears. He said something about Draco summoning Dobby after he left the drawing room, and she felt her bottom lip wobble as she tried to steady her heart rate.

"Hermione?"

She blinked and returned his worried stare with a shaky sort of half smile.

"I don't know what to say," she admitted.

Harry observed her silently for a few more moments, his gaze calculating and much more discerning that she had ever seen from him before.

"Do you…" he paused and twisted his hands together nervously, his hair an absolute mess from tugging at it, " _Did_ you love him?"

Hermione let out a sad breath, lowering her eyes to focus on that little burnt spot on the wooden table top from that time Harry had put a hot crockery dish straight into it without a heat proof mat.

"Harry…It doesn't change what he did-"

"Come on. Humour me. Did you fall for him?"

When she raised her eyes to his, he looked a bit red in the face, but still determined. She hadn't seen him so stubborn about something in a long while. She felt her heart skip several beats and she steadied herself by crossing her arms over her stomach protectively.

"I wanted to," she whispered hoarsely, "I…I thought I had fallen in love with him…"

"That's great!" Harry remarked, clearly pursuing an agenda of his own. Hermione grimaced and shook her head.

"It's too late, Harry. He hurt me. He manipulated me and then he lied about it for so long. I started living a whole other life without him."

Harry groaned in frustration.

"You can't blame him for what happened between you and Ron. You two were never going to work."

"I know," she growled angrily, "But I wasted a year of my life making Ron and I both miserable to figure it out. Never realising that Ron simply couldn't compare to what I had shared with Draco."

Harry raised his eyebrows meaningfully, but Hermione just pursed her lips crossly.

"Don't even go there. Draco and I never…we didn't go that far."

"Yeh I know. Eugh…maybe he did tell me too much. To be honest I think he was just glad to get it off his chest after so long."

Hermione chuckled wryly, running her hands over her face in embarrassment. Then she just shook her head and peered up at her friend with slightly moist eyes.

"I'm sorry, Harry…I just don't know what to do."

Harry smiled softly, reaching out to place his hand on top of hers.

"It's alright. Maybe you just need some more time to process what's happened."

"Maybe," she agreed with a sad sigh.

"For what it's worth, Hermione," Harry started, leaning forwards and staring at her with that same sincerity that made her heart clench in anxiety, "I think if you want to punish Draco for what he did, then just remember that you might just hurt yourself more in the end. Because from what I saw, he's been punishing himself enough for almost five years."

Hermione sniffled, wiping her eyes impatiently with the back of her hand.

"When did you jump on board the Malfoy fan club?" she whispered with a sad little laugh. But Harry remained deadly serious as he stared back at her.

"When I realised that you both need each other. I mean it, Hermione. Please just think about it and take your time."

Hermione felt a small tear fall and she pursed her lips in annoyance. She was turning into a dripping tap lately.

"Now, don't forget," Harry added with a slightly more cheerful tone, "we have the big Weasley lunch this Sunday. So you'd better start practicing your best _everything is fine_ smile."

Hermione blanched and shook her head nervously.

"Eurgh, how do you talk me into these things?" she whined, and his smile only widened.

"My natural charm," he joked.

She shook her head sadly and sat back in her chair with a deep sigh. She had no idea how she was going to endure a Weasley event in this state of mind. It was likely to be an absolute disaster.

….

 **Eurgh, too much angst. I'm sad now. Thank you for so many lovely reviews, keep them coming!**


	19. Chapter 19

**Author's Note: Hopefully the angst will start to lessen as we keep going, and things will get happier. Thank you so much for your beautiful reviews of each chapter, they really do inspire what I'm going to write. As always, JKR is a joyous surprise of ideas.**

….

"Why does she do this _every_ time?" Hermione groaned as they both stumbled out of the fireplace, balancing at least five trays of food between them. They were weighed down by literal mountains of pies and meats, with potatoes, salads, and even the larger half of a flan.

"Molly is one hundred percent convinced that you and I just starve in between visits."

Hermione chuckled, trying to place one of the trays gently onto the counter, but ended up sort of dropping it down with a loud thunk.

"I swear she keeps getting worse."

Harry nodded as he opened the fridge clumsily with one foot, sliding his plates in and sighing with relief as he flexed his sore hands.

"Soon we'll be coming home with the whole bloody cow," Harry grumbled as he rubbed his full stomach, and Hermione winced in agreement. She wasn't sure how the Weasley kids could survive on such a meat-rich diet and still remain so slim, or in Ron's case gangly.

"She means well," Hermione said with a sigh, serving them both up a glass of water and conjuring two potion vials containing an indigestion draught.

"Cheers," Harry said, raising his vial, and they clinked them together and downed the potion. Hermione felt an instant wave of respite as the pressure on her stomach was lifted.

Harry leaned against the bench top and fixed her with a questioning stare.

"So... you managed to survive today," he said with a concerned frown. Hermione nodded and mirrored his position on the opposite side.

"Yes, I suppose I did."

"Things getting better between you and Ron?"

She sighed and tugged at a strand of hair hanging loose from her bun.

"It's starting to settle down between us. We don't argue as much or get upset anymore. I think we're both just glad to be friends again. We never should have dated."

Harry snorted dryly.

"Obviously. I've been telling you that for years."

She rolled her eyes and took a slow sip of water.

"Molly is still disappointed of course," she added with a small frown, "but I think she's also starting to realise that I'm just not the perfect partner for her son."

Harry nodded in agreement.

"Well I think initially she was just keen to grab onto something encouraging to keep her going, especially after what happened to Fred. But she might have gotten carried away."

Hermione chuckled sadly.

"Yeh she did. But she meant well. You have it far worse with Ginny."

Harry groaned and buried his face in his hands.

"Tell me about it. She's already planning the engagement party."

They both chortled for a while, shaking their heads.

"But you're happy, right?" she asked tentatively, peering up at him.

Harry nodded brightly, his lips tugging into a wide grin.

"Absolutely," he said fervently.

Hermione swallowed and clenched her hands into fists.

"What does it feel like?" she asked in a small voice. Harry was looking at her closely to make sure she was okay, but once he had ascertained that she could handle herself alright, he let a wistful smile linger on his face.

"When I'm with her, I feel alive. I become strong and confident and sometimes stupid and terrified, and sometimes it hurts so bad… but nothing else matters. It's just right."

Hermione's mouth went dry and she couldn't stop the traitorous corner of her mind that drew up memories of her time spent with Draco so many years ago. With the failed memory charm lapsing just over a week ago, she almost felt like the whole of sixth year had happened only yesterday. Her thoughts flickered to that cheeky smile he got when he was teasing her, the way they seamlessly worked together on a project, the deep laugh he gave when he was amused by something she said. The electricity of simply being in his presence.

Hermione closed her eyes and let the memories wash over her, feeling a bit guilty for the direction of her thoughts. Wasn't she supposed to hate him? But her own memories were taunting her with other emotions and images that certainly didn't feel anything like hatred…

 _Bickering in the library…_

 _Pressed up against the wall, confronting her about being nosy…_

 _Feeling his arm brush against hers in Arithmancy class…_

 _Reaching a shaky truce…_

 _Slipping him a bottle of dreamless sleep under the desk…their hands touching…_

 _"You always have a choice"…_

 _Watching New Years Fireworks…Draco slipping his coat over her shoulders…_

 _"Are we friends then?"…_

 _A soft curl pushed behind her ear before Snape walked in on them…_

 _Lying on Myrtle's bathroom floor, cradled in his lap as he called her name desperately and healed her…_

 _"Wake up, Granger…"_

 _Brushing lips together after her nightmare…_

 _Reading each other's favourite books…_

 _His jealousy over Ron…_

 _Swapping warm looks across the Great Hall…_

 _Draco pressing her into the wall of an alcove and begging her to hide…_

 _Kissing her passionately, fiercely, pushing her into a rickety old desk and whispering her name like a prayer…_

"Uh…Hermione?"

Hermione shook her head and brought herself back to the present. She blinked and returned Harry's worried stare. Then she blushed, lowering her eyes to the bench top and squirming a bit in embarrassment.

"Sorry," she mumbled, but when her gaze flickered up again she saw Harry was grinning at her cheekily.

"Don't be sorry. I understand,"

Hermione scowled at him darkly, crossing her arms in front of her.

"Don't give me that look, Harry Potter," she scolded, "You promised that you would give me more time!"

Harry held up his hands defensively.

"And I am! I would never dare to-"

Their bickering was interrupted when there was a sharp rapping on the front door. They both froze, frowning. They weren't expecting anyone. No muggle would come straight to their apartment without buzzing first from the speaker downstairs. Which meant it must be a witch or wizard. Harry raised one eyebrow questioningly and shrugged, making his way over to the door. Hermione listened curiously as he unlocked it and opened it slightly, and then there was a brief pause.

"Oh! Uh…hi _…_ um…hello-" she heard Harry stammering, and it made Hermione even more curious. She frowned, pushing herself off the counter to make her way over as well.

"Harry? Who is it-"

Hermione's voice trailed off and she froze in stunned silence at the appearance of the austere woman standing at her door.

Narcissa Malfoy was a slender, elegant looking woman who held herself with a confidence that any witch would envy. She was dressed impeccably, and even had a small fur slung effortlessly over one shoulder. Her features were refined and held high in an expression of cold superiority. Thin lips pursed into a hard, dignified line and the arch of her brow demanded obedience.

Hermione spluttered stupidly for a few moments, taking the woman in with a furiously racing heart. The steely grey-blue eyes were strikingly familiar.

Narcissa looked over Harry's shoulder and saw her standing there, and her expression instantly turned hard.

"Miss Granger," she said stiffly, and all Hermione could do was let her mouth drop open in a dumbstruck show of confusion.

"Uh…" she stammered just as Harry had, and the older woman quickly lost her patience.

"Perhaps you would be so kind as to invite me into your… _home…_ " she said the last word with barely concealed disdain as her eyes peered into their neatly modern but cramped apartment. For a brief moment, Hermione considered refusing her. A part of her wanted to stride over there and slam the door in the snooty woman's face. But before she could contemplate it further, Harry stood to one side with a sweeping gesture of his arm.

"Of course, come in and take a seat."

Hermione rolled her eyes and stepped back as well, the three of them moving into the living room awkwardly. She was suddenly painfully aware that all the cluttered books on the shelves around the room might make her look like some kind of disorganised hermit. She wasn't sure why she suddenly cared so much what the woman thought of her. She pushed the self-conscious thought away hurriedly.

"Can I get you something to drink? Tea?" Hermione asked stiffly as none of them seemed keen to sit down. Narcissa's lips twitched into what almost looked like a frown, but she was very good at hiding her emotions.

"That would be…acceptable," she sniffed, and Hermione gratefully retreated to the kitchen to summon all the tea things together onto a plate, making sure she selected the best china teacups they owned. Hermione had found them months ago at an antiques market and had fallen in love with the dainty little cups and saucers. Now she was just grateful she didn't have to resort to using their chunky crockery coffee mugs, with all the bold slogans printed onto them. She took advantage of the reprieve to take a few deep breaths, but her wand was shaking so hard in her sweaty palm that she almost dropped it a few times. Her mind was screaming at her all the horrible reasons that the Malfoy matriarch could be here, and she briefly screwed her eyes shut in a panic. Once she had calmed down and gotten control of herself once more, Hermione straightened her spine and crossed back over into the living area, the tray of tea things hovering in front of her. As she approached she heard Narcissa asking Harry a few very banal but polite questions about his work in the auror department, and he was clearly responding with more ease and self-discipline than she thought she was capable of right now.

She gently lowered the charmed pot to rest on the coffee table, and everyone took a seat. Narcissa seemed to try and sit right on the edge of the couch; her posture remained perfectly straight.

"How did you know where we live?" Hermione asked in a low voice after an uncomfortable pause where the tea poured itself into each cup.

"Certain people at the ministry have always been open to bribes," she replied clearly, as if political corruption were the most normal idea in the world. Hermione shook her head in shock and took a scalding sip of her tea. It burned the roof of her mouth, but she didn't dare wince and give away any hint of stupidity.

"Did Draco ask you to come?" she questioned instead, her voice coming out a little harsher than she had anticipated. Narcissa's dry lips curled up briefly into what might have been a tiny sneer.

"Heavens no," she replied coolly, "He would be furious if he knew I was here."

Hermione blinked a bit in surprise at the other woman's words. She clearly had a bee in her bonnet about something; that was certain.

"So…why are you here then?"

Narcissa took a dainty sip of her tea, contemplating the two Gryffindors sitting before her with an air of determination.

"I love my son, Miss Granger. And I am extremely protective of him. Mister Potter can certainly give an account of that if you do not believe me."

Hermione raised a brow at her friend, and he shrugged with a sheepish smile.

"Well she did lie to Voldemort to try and get into Hogwarts and save him."

She nodded in response, remembering what he was referring to from the final battle. Hermione had been rather impressed with the Malfoy woman's guts when she had heard that story. She doubted many people had the nerve to deceive Voldemort to his face.

"Okay," she agreed slowly, nodding to the woman to show her acknowledgement of her words, and waited for Narcissa to continue, wondering where she was going with this.

"I want to make myself perfectly clear Miss Granger. I know exactly what has occurred between my son and yourself, and I'm extremely disappointed."

Hermione blanched and shot up to sit straighter on the couch. A flush of outrage swept over her, and she clenched her fingers around her teacup.

"Mrs Malfoy, just because my parents are muggles _does not_ mean I'm any less-"

Narcissa's eyes widened slightly and she held up an imperious hand.

"Gracious, girl, don't be ridiculous. I'm not angry at Draco for falling in love with a muggleborn. You clearly proved your strength and courage in the war, and no one can take that away from you."

Hermione's mouth hung open in surprise for a second before she snapped it closed.

"Then what?" she asked curiously.

Narcissa noticeably frowned this time, her mouth pursing thinly and her nose turning up in an expression of disdain.

"When you broke his heart you ruined him. He has become a ghost; a shell of the boy that I raised. And I cannot sit by any longer and watch him destroy himself."

Hermione's outrage returned a bit as she spluttered.

" _Me?_ Break _his_ heart?"

Narcissa nodded firmly. And when Hermione turned to glance at Harry he studiously ignored her gaze and stared at the ceiling as if he wished he wasn't there. It was clear she would get no help from him. He had already signed on for team Draco a long time ago.

"I'm sorry, Mrs Malfoy, but maybe you don't know the whole story. Draco was the one who betrayed _me._ He violated my mind!"

"Yes. To protect you," Narcissa noted sternly, and Hermione felt her heart skip. So it seemed the older woman did know what had happened after all, even if her opinion was a little one-sided.

"Yes…but-" she floundered for what she was supposed to say to this severe aristocrat before her. All her usual reasons seemed to fade away when confronted with Draco's mother right here in her living room in the flesh. They would probably mean nothing to the proud woman.

"Miss Gra…Hermione," Narcissa corrected herself, her face softening into a look of concern and almost compassion, "I believe that my son did a very brave thing by obliviating you."

"He broke my trust," she argued weakly.

"He saved your life," Narcissa replied emphatically, leaning forward on her seat, "Make no mistake that if there had been any suspicion about the connection between you two, the consequences would have been worse than fatal for both of you."

Hermione's eyes widened and she wasn't sure what to say, especially since her mouth had gone completely dry. Luckily she was saved by Harry leaning forward in interest.

"What do you mean? Draco was never very clear about what might have happened," he asked with a worried frown on his face. Narcissa sighed, looking a bit sad. The longer she stayed, the more emotion she revealed on her previously dour face. It was surprisingly to see the woman's serene mask crack with such intense feeling.

"The Dark Lord was extremely skilled in reading minds, both of the victims he had captured, as well as the surface thoughts of those around him. It was what made him able to control so many powerful pureblood men through fear. He seemed omniscient. But it also made him near unstoppable in battle. He could predict the spells of his opponent long before they cast them."

Harry frowned.

"Why didn't he see mine coming then?"

Narcissa smiled softly at the Gryffindor boy. She seemed quite willing to indulge his question.

"The Dark Lord was terrified of even brushing your thoughts, Mister Potter. He believed it would cause him pain, like when he touched you."

Harry was silent for a few moments, but eventually he nodded slowly, a thoughtful look on his face.

"He was hurt when he possessed me at the ministry of magic."

Narcissa grimaced in agreement, but Hermione was still confused.

"So…what does this have to do with me?" she asked, feeling a bit self-conscious just asking the question. Narcissa gave her a strict look that made her squirm where she sat.

"Do you know what would have happened to you and Draco if the Dark Lord had gleaned even the most superficial hint of emotion from you?"

"No," she replied in a shaky voice, and Narcissa's gaze turned haunted as she placed her teacup back down on the coffee table.

"I had seen it happen before. Running away or hiding would have been almost impossible. He would have manipulated your feelings to draw you out. You would have been turned into a slave for the amusement of the more rowdy Death Eaters, the ones that were kept in the ranks to do all the dirty work. Like the snatchers. Draco would have been forced to watch you being tortured for fun. But not before the Dark Lord made a spectacle of you both for the inner circle. The last follower I saw who tried to have a secret affair with a muggleborn was placed under an imperio and forced to cast the cruciatus curse on his muggle lover again and again until she was driven insane. He was forced to do unspeakable things to her. The guilt was too much for him of course. He killed himself shortly after. That's the fate that would have been in store for you and Draco. And people had already raised suspicions about his time spent with you."

Hermione sat stunned at the other woman's description. She clasped her fingers together tightly in her lap to try and calm the shaking that had taken over her hands.

""Uh…I don't…I mean I wasn't…"

Her eyes flickered over towards Harry and she saw that he had also gone pale. Narcissa sighed and observed them for a moment before she spoke again.

"I don't tell you this to upset you. I just want you to understand."

Hermione shuddered as her imagination taunted her with nightmarish pictures of Draco battling under the imperius curse while she writhed on the floor in front of him. She closed her eyes tight for a moment as the images flooded her mind, imagining the stiff, panicked look on his face as she screamed for him to stop. But he wouldn't be able to stop. Eventually Hermione managed to clear her throat and lift her gaze back up to the woman on the other couch.

"Did…did Draco know that would happen? Had he heard about this?"

Narcissa pursed her lips together tightly, and more emotion cracked through her calm façade. In fact, her eyes even crinkled a bit at the edges and shined as if she were trying to hold back tears.

"He didn't just hear about it. He saw it. It was one of the first meetings he was forced to be present at. He watched the whole thing."

Hermione gasped in a shaky breath and clapper her hand over her mouth. Her heart swelled with horror at the idea that Draco, _her_ Draco had witnessed this terrible thing. It meant that the whole of their sixth year as they were becoming friends and falling in love, he had been tormented by memories of that happening. No wonder he had been having nightmares in the library.

Then her pulse started to race as she considered the implications. Draco had seen this happen before his very eyes. And so, when he was on the precipice of returning to Voldemort's side and leaving her to roam the country with undesirable number one Harry Potter of all people, he had acted in the only way he knew would keep them both safe.

Hermione's back arched with a shiver as she considered what might have happened if they hadn't escaped from the Manor that night before Voldemort arrived. If Draco hadn't sent for Dobby. If there had been no memory charm. She quickly shook her head, not willing to think about it even for a second. It was too much.

She returned her attention back to Narcissa and had to blink a few times to make sure she didn't let herself get teary.

"I didn't realise-" she whispered hoarsely, her fingernails digging into her cheeks and making small crescent shapes in her skin.

"I couldn't save my son from what his father had already drawn him into… but I _can_ save him now. And to speak quite frankly, the hurt and suffering you have gone through since the war is nothing compared to the pain he has felt all this time. So to answer your earlier question…yes, I believe you are the one who broke his heart all over again when you threw it back in his face last week."

Hermione stared in dismay at the older woman whose regal posture had not cracked at all during her speech. She envied her confidence.

Harry shifted on the couch to shorten the distance between them and reached over, placing his hand on top of hers. She grabbed it and gave it a firm squeeze as her heart beat painfully against her ribs as if it were trying to escape its cage.

"So…you actually _want_ me to forgive him?" Hermione stammered, confused at the stubbornness in the rich woman's gaze, "You seem to despise me."

Narcissa actually chuckled then, though it was a dry sound and didn't crinkle up her face like she would have expected when someone laughed normally.

"Not at all. If anything, I actually admire your independent spirit. I can see why you became friends with my son; you're certainly nothing like the other girls he knew then." She paused for a moment and her slight smile faded, "My husband is dead," her eyes flickered briefly over to Harry but he didn't flinch or even show a hint of discomfort at the mention of his former enemy, "and my only living relatives won't even speak to me. Draco is my whole world. He is my only son. I love him with every fibre of my being… And he loves _you_."

Hermione swallowed painfully, trying to brush away the silly little flutter that tickled in her stomach.

"Still? After all this time?" she managed to croak rather clumsily.

Harry clenched her hand tightly in his, to the point where he was actually hurting her. She raised her brows and looked over at him. He had an intense frown on his face as if he had just remembered something that grieved him.

"Always," he murmured, and Hermione cocked her head in question. But he just grimaced and nodded his head curtly to himself. It was clear he was buried deep in a personal memory of his own, but the conviction on his face was enough to convince her.

Maybe Draco did love her, even after all these years. His mother certainly believed so.

Hermione couldn't help but remember that moment days ago now when she had woken up and had immediately freaked out and thrown him out of her apartment. She could vividly recall what his face had looked like crumpled up in despair as she yelled at him and told him she hated him. His eyes had shone with the most intense agony she had ever seen, which was saying something, since she had seen him at some of his worst moments during school. He had seemed truly devastated by her rejection. Hermione felt her gut clench guiltily. She had told him once when they were at school that she didn't think there was anything he could do that would make her hate him. But when he had risked everything to save her life and protect her, she had turned her back on him. It was all just so…hard. Hermione was still furious at him. He really had broken her heart. But maybe, just maybe, he had been broken just as much as she had.

At this point, Narcissa rose gracefully to her feet and arranged her shawl and gloves neatly back on her person.

"I will take my leave. I fear I have said quite enough for today."

The older woman crossed over towards the door, her shoulders much more relaxed than when she walked in. Maybe she was just pleased to get it off her chest as well.

Hermione blinked in surprise and stared after her. She was frozen for a moment in indecision before she hurried over to catch up with her.

"Mrs Malfoy," she called quietly, and the woman turned and observed her shrewdly, slipping her gloves back onto her hands and flexing her fingers as she waited in silence.

"Um…well…" Hermione stammered, not sure what she wanted to say. She had been rendered almost speechless by the woman's actions and words this afternoon. She could only respect the courage and raw tenacity Narcissa Malfoy had shown in coming here to their apartment and speaking her mind to defend her son. It was admirable.

"I just… I'm sorry that Draco has been hurting. We were very close at school. He was my best friend. And despite my recent actions…" she flushed a bit, still even now getting a bit angry when she thought about what he had put her through since the war, "I never wanted him to suffer. I only wanted him to be safe and happy. No matter what happened between us."

Narcissa stared at her thoughtfully for a few moments, and Hermione felt nervous standing there under such focused attention. Eventually the other woman reached out with one gloved hand and placed it on her shoulder, giving it a very soft squeeze.

"Draco tells me you are the smartest witch he has ever met. I'm sure you will do the right thing in the end."

Hermione bit into her bottom lip, worried about the expectation that shone through the other woman's eyes. She wasn't sure she could ever live up to it. Especially not with the tumultuous and conflicting feelings running through her mind right now.

"Maybe I should…talk to him," she murmured uncertainly, not even sure if it was the right thing to do. She really didn't want to end up yelling at him again. And her emotions were probably far too fragile right now. But Narcissa smiled and quickly conjured up a small slip of parchment.

"Take your time, dear," she said, handing over the monogrammed Malfoy note paper and giving a soft smile, "This is the password to our main guest floo at the manor. Please know that you are always welcome."

Hermione couldn't really say much as she accepted the dainty slip of parchment. She just stared down at it, swallowing ineffectually against the dry lump in her throat. Finally she managed to summon a shaky nod, and Narcissa's smile widened as she turned to leave.

"It was nice meeting you properly, Hermione."

"You too," she muttered hoarsely.

And then the finely dressed woman was gone, and both Gryffindors were left in a state of semi-shock. She turned to Harry and saw that he was also looking as if he had been run over by a freight train. She huffed out a heavy breath and put her hands on her hips.

"Well…" she started, not sure what to say.

"Yeh, wow," Harry agreed intuitively, "I wasn't expecting that."

Hermione came over and flopped back down on the couch next to him, and they both released a sigh together.

"I'm surprised you're not gloating," she murmured, giving Harry a tired smile. He returned her smile, shaking his head.

"I thought about it. But then, it did sound a lot better coming from Draco's mum than it did from me. I don't exactly have a way with words."

Hermione chuckled, snuggling up against his shoulder affectionately.

"You're not so bad," she chided, and then they fell into a companionable silence. She wasn't sure what else she was supposed to say now. There was too much to think about. All she knew for certain was that something had shifted profoundly within her, and as yet she couldn't figure out exactly what it was.

….

"So what did you want to talk about, darling? On the phone you sounded so…worried."

Hermione fidgeted against the pretty yellow kitchen counter, hearing the steam build in the kettle to make a faint whistling sound. She watched her mother anxiously, unable to stop her nasty habit of chewing on her nails. The once comforting smell of her childhood home was tempered by a nagging feeling of guilt that seemed to pervade every room.

"I wanted to ask you something," she muttered sheepishly, as her mother busied herself with preparing the tea.

"Of course. What is it?"

Hermione sighed and gnawed on her fingers some more.

"I wanted to know if you and dad are still angry with me?"

Jean Granger turned around in surprise, her eyes widening slightly at the unexpected question.

"What do you mean, darling?"

Hermione swallowed and worked up the courage to continue.

"I did something horrible to you, and you both just…forgave me."

Jean furrowed her brow, a look that was all too familiar to Hermione, since she often pulled it herself when she was considering something difficult in front of her.

"Of course we did. We love you."

She sighed and rubbed her hand over her face.

"I know. I love you too. But aren't you still upset with me?"

Hermione watched as her mother absorbed the question. She knew that she must be right on some level. Things had never been quite the same with her parents since she had reversed the temporary amnesia charm and restored their identities. She had modified it herself to be as painless as possible, but she had always felt that her relationship with them had been irrevocably damaged. And anyway, she now had first hand experience of the trauma that such a thing could cause.

"Sweetheart…it happened so many years ago. Why bring it up now?"

"Please, mum, just answer the question," she implored, her gaze fixed on her mother, begging her to answer truthfully. Jean took a long time to think about it, fiddling quietly with the kettle and mugs to keep herself busy while she figured out what to say. She had always been a more calm, level-headed person than Hermione. She had definitely inherited a bit of her father's impetuous temper. Eventually she placed two clean mugs gently down on the counter and took a deep breath.

"You hurt us very deeply. But…you did it out of love."

Hermione bit her bottom lip so hard it stung.

"It was so horrible what I did to you."

"Yes," her mother paused to gently lift the kettle and pour out a steady measure of water into each cup, "At first we were very angry, and upset. We found it extremely difficult to return to our old lives when we had begun to live a full and happy second life in Sydney. It was…jarring. But in the end we both survived it. Thanks to you. It might not have been conventional or ideal, but you were trying to protect us. That means something, no matter how much pain it caused."

Hermione felt her eyes prick with tears. Of course there had been some emotional fallout when she had first reversed the charm. But the pain had been overshadowed by the enormous relief her parents had felt from knowing that she was alive and that she hadn't been killed in the war.

"So how did you forgive me? Why didn't you yell at me or disown me or something?"

Jean frowned at the question as if she didn't fully understand it.

"Would that have helped? We were sad and disappointed that you didn't tell us the truth…but we would never want to lose you. You're our only daughter. If we had treated you resentfully or out of anger, then we would have become even more miserable. Because we would still have all that pain, but we would also have lost a daughter."

Hermione nodded, impatiently brushing away a tear that had made a slow trail down her cheek. She slumped into a seat at the kitchen table and buried her face in her hands.

"I think I made a huge mistake," she groaned, and felt her mother's hand softly rub her back, like she used to do when she was a child and she had skinned her knee in the playground.

"What's wrong, darling?"

She leaned into her mother's hand, desperately seeking the comfort it provided.

"I'm such a hypocrite. If only I were more like you, mum. I really messed things up."

Jean Granger bent down to place a soft kiss on her forehead, still rubbing her back in soothing circles.

"You are your father's daughter," she joked in a soft voice and Hermione chuckled.

"I'm much worse than dad," she replied wryly.

Her mother smiled warmly, squeezing her shoulders tightly.

"Well if there's one thing I've learned from being married to your father for almost twenty seven years, it's that the man is very good at making amends."

Hermione gave a rather watery grin, feeling her heart skip a beat or two as her mind fixed stubbornly onto a sudden idea.

As her mother sat opposite and started to dole out the milk and sugar for tea, Hermione reached down subtly into the pocket of her jeans. She felt her stomach clench with furious nerves as she fingered the little scrap of paper that Narcissa had given her earlier that week. Maybe now it was time.

…

 **Omg so mean. I'm sorry. You can surely guess that next chapter will bring back some real interaction between them. Looking forward to your thoughts! Please review.**


	20. Chapter 20

**Author's Note: I'm sure you've all been waiting for this, so I won't toy with you any longer… As always, JKR is our special muse.**

Hermione ran her palms over the material of her jeans, trying to wipe off the sweat that had formed there slowly as she stood staring out of the fireplace with trepidation. Her heart had been pounding so hard she was surprised she was able to hear her own tumultuous thoughts over the hammering in her chest. Eventually she had stepped into the green flames, and Hermione now stood frozen in a small hall inside Malfoy Manor.

Looking around the room, she saw that it was mostly empty except for a few side tables, a coat rack and a small settee. It was probably only used as an antechamber for guests arriving at the manor, as it lacked any proper furniture or decor. Hermione was just thankful that she hadn't appeared in the same drawing room from the last time she was here. Logically she knew that it was a very large house, almost a bloody castle, so it was likely she wouldn't be forced to stumble upon the place again. But that didn't prevent the sickening shiver that crawled up her spine. She could still hear the echoes of Bellatrix laughing madly as she carved into her arm, the way the sound had echoed around the high ceilings of the drawing room. The intent stares of the portraits on the walls piercing into her as she writhed in pain still haunted her dreams.

Hermione shook her head and blocked out the memories. There were no more Death Eaters here anymore. She was here for another purpose, and she needed to try and focus on that.

There was a soft pop from the corner and a dainty little elf appeared. He dropped into a low bow, sweeping off his tiny bowler hat and smiling cheerfully in welcome. Hermione was pleased to see that he was dressed neatly in a miniature waistcoat and trousers.

"Good evening," the elf squeaked, hopping back and forth on his feet, "Allow me to fetch my mistress right away."

He pulled on a rope that was dangling down near the door.

"Can I bring you a refreshing beverage?"

"No thank you."

Hermione shook her head and waited as patiently as she could, considering she was full of nervous energy. It was only a few minutes before Narcissa waltzed in, dressed in her usual elegant clothing even though it was growing late in the day.

"Ah! Hermione. You are most welcome," she hummed serenely as she strode over and gave Hermione a brisk peck on each cheek. When she pulled back she gave her a critical once over, her thin lips pulled into a calm smile.

"Good evening Mrs Malfoy. I…apologize for calling without warning, and so late at night-"

"Nonsense. I'm pleased you're here. When I didn't hear from you for a few days I wasn't sure if I had in fact frightened you off..."

Hermione smiled sheepishly and rubbed the back of her neck.

"Not at all. I've just been absorbing everything. Making sure I don't rush into anything, and thinking things through rationally."

Narcissa smirked.

"The brightest witch of your age, indeed."

Hermione shuffled, a bit embarrassed at the eager look on the other woman's face. She felt her cheeks flush a bit, wishing that she could have made a far better first impression with Draco's mother. If only circumstances had been different for both of them.

"I'm not even sure what I want to do yet," she admitted, her blush deepening against her will, "I just want to…see him. Talk to him."

Narcissa nodded in understanding. She reached over and squeezed Hermione's arm just below her shoulder, before gesturing out the door into the hallway.

"Follow me. I'll take you straight up to his room."

Hermione smiled, but inside she was starting to panic. Her hands shook as she began to walk behind Narcissa and out into a very ornate hallway; one of the longest she had ever seen with doors and paintings lining either side. She stumbled and paused a bit at the sight of some familiar design features that recalled memories of the drawing room.

"It's alright," Narcissa reassured her softly, her gaze sincere and warm for once, "we're in a completely different wing of the house."

Hermione nodded tensely, lowering her eyes a bit guiltily for thinking such horrible thoughts when her hostess had been nothing but polite and welcoming to her. But then, it wasn't a completely undeserved reaction. She had been tortured here after all. So she just kept her head down and followed the click-clacking of Narcissa's heels on the floorboards. As they walked her anxiety grew and bloomed inside her chest until she wasn't sure she could breathe properly.

Hermione had no idea what she was supposed to say, or do. All she knew was that the time had come to face her pain and fear, rather than just keep running away from it. She only hoped that she didn't regret it.

….

Closing his eyes, Draco embraced the rush of icy air that tickled his cheeks and cracked his lips. He leaned slightly out the window to take a deep breath of the bitter autumn air. Winter was approaching fast, like a stampede thundering towards him, but he loved the way the colder wind broke through the haze of exhaustion and nausea. Draco welcomed the chill of winter, because it helped him to feel something real against his skin even if just for a moment. He hadn't even bothered to drink himself into a coma tonight; he was too tired even for that. Every time he slept he felt the guilt gnaw at his dreams until he woke in a cold sweat.

It wasn't just Hermione, of course, though she was the main source of his tortured memories and cruel imagination. He had hundreds of other tiny horrors building in the base of his skull, flashes of things he did or saw as a Death Eater that wouldn't leave him alone. There were even insidious little thoughts about his own behaviour as a young boy that plagued him day and night; spitting his filthy prejudices around as if he owned the school. And all of these feelings were underscored by a sense of doubt; because he wasn't sure what he was supposed to do to seek his redemption.

Draco snorted in wry mockery at the maudlin direction his thoughts had taken. He collapsed back onto the window seat, wrapping the bedspread tighter around him as he took gulping breaths of cool air. He was disgusted at his melancholy mood this evening. Maybe he needed the alcohol as a distraction, because his sobriety lately was making his mind wander into even darker territory than before. Self-hatred was not a pleasant companion, and he had his fair share of it.

A creaking of his bedroom door announced that he was no longer alone, but Draco just leant his cheek against the numbingly cold glass of the window and huffed impatiently.

"For the last time, mother, I'm not hungry. I don't need you chasing me around with a bloody spoon."

He instantly regretted snapping at her. She had been trying so hard to help him in the days since he had revealed his story to her. Her kindness and worry were like a balm to his weary soul. But she was also determined to make him better, when he was quite happy to simply stew in his own misery and regret for a while longer. But Narcissa had always been a determined woman, and Draco appreciated the efforts she went to, even if he sometimes became cross with her persistence. Having her become overprotective and him stubborn almost felt like what a mother-son relationship was supposed to be. She was trying to be his mother for once, instead of Mrs Malfoy.

Feeling a twinge of guilt for dismissing her so childishly, Draco shifted on his seat to turn and face her. But it wasn't Narcissa. Standing in the doorway, her brown eyes wide like a doe and her whole body poised with tension, was Hermione Granger.

Draco's heart tightened so fast he thought maybe he was going to pass out, and he had to remind himself to take a deep breath just so the dizzy wave in his head would clear. He blinked a couple of times, in case he was imagining things or had finally cracked completely and it was a full-blown hallucination. He really hoped not.

He slowly spun around on his cushioned seat, swinging his legs around onto the floor. His hands shook as he gripped them on the blanket wrapped around him.

She was an absolute vision standing there inside the door to his bedroom. Draco's eyes swept over her from top to bottom, drinking her in like a mirage, but hoping that what he was seeing was real. Her curls were heavy and sleek, spilling over her shoulders and making him yearn to run his fingers through them like he once had. She was dressed in distinctively muggle clothing, from her thin jumper to the tight jeans that he thought definitely more witches should wear, because it made her figure look almost sinful. But what drew him to her most now, were those stunning brown eyes that had always held a certain fascination for him. In the dark, flickering candlelight of the room, they were a deep chocolate that made him feel like he was falling slowly into her. Her eyes were widened now in an expression of anxiety, but also what might have been excitement. Draco felt his gut swoop pleasantly at the sight of her. She didn't look disgusted or angry at all. All he had been able to picture since the last time he had seen her was the look of fury on her face as she screamed at him. But now it was gone.

His body jolted a bit forwards on the seat as if he was going to stand, but then wasn't sure what to do.

"Hermione?" he asked in a hoarse voice, trying not to sound too hopeful in case she had merely come here to slap him again. She almost backed away a step, visibly lurching at the sound of his voice. Her gaze flickered down to the blanket wrapped around him, his unkempt jawline with a few days worth of stubble and the dark rings under his eyes.

"Hello," she croaked in response, squirming under his needy gaze.

He finally raised himself to his feet, his knees trembling under him. Tossing the blanket back onto the seat behind him he stood shivering in his thin t-shirt and trousers, a bit embarrassed that she was fully dressed while he was in his pyjamas. He took a couple of tentative steps towards her, moving slowly lest he scare her away. He approached her like she was a frightened animal that might bolt at any sign of danger.

"What are you doing here?" he whispered carefully, his eyes fixed on her, taking in every little detail of her. The fact that Hermione was standing here in his bedroom seemed too good to be true.

"I…" she started to stammer, and he watched as she nervously wiped her palms on her jeans and then knotted her fingers together. She bit her lip stubbornly and urged herself to continue, "I wanted to talk."

"Talk?" he repeated dumbly, trying hard not to get too excited. He could be setting himself up for a lot of pain and disappointment if he did.

"Yeh…I thought we could…I mean I wanted to-" she blushed and looked down at the floor, and Draco jolted into action. He needed to keep her here. For the past couple of weeks he had been desperately thinking of a way to explain himself to her, or even to start to atone for what he had done to her. And since she had eviscerated all the flowers he had sent, he needed somewhere to start.

"Great," he babbled nervously, stepping a little closer and running his fingers through his knotted hair, "Um, I really want to talk."

She nodded quickly.

"Good."

There was a slightly awkward pause, and Draco shifted self-consciously in his crumpled clothes.

"Look, do you mind just waiting a couple of minutes while I clean up?" his cheeks tinged a bit pink in embarrassment, but Hermione just smiled softly and nodded again.

"Sure. I'm sorry, I should have warned you I was coming-"

"It's fine," he reassured her hastily, and she bit her lip again and lowered her head, curls spilling across her face and hiding her expression. With his heart thudding uneasily in his chest he strode into the attached bathroom, closing the door behind him with a tremulous hand. He leaned back against it for a few seconds, breathing heavily and his mind screaming at him.

 _What is she doing here?_

For the first time in days and days, he couldn't supress the small blooming of hope in his chest, and he actually had to press his hand to his sternum because it was breaking through the numbness he had become so used to, and it hurt. Shaking his head, Draco rushed over to the bathroom counter and stared at his reflection in the mirror. He winced. It was mortifying how completely bedraggled he appeared. He hardly recognised the face of the man who stared back at him.

Draco quickly got to work. He grabbed his wand from the counter where it had been resting negligently. With a few waves, he vanished his facial hair and cast some refreshing charms. It wasn't the same as scrubbing himself raw in the shower, but it would have to do. Then he conjured a set of casual clothes and hurriedly threw them on, wetting his hands with water from the tap and smoothing back his hair. Giving himself one more critical gaze in the mirror, Draco made his way back out into the bedroom. Hermione had crossed the room while he was gone, and she now stood by the open window where he had been only a few minutes ago. She was looking around the grounds below with a mixture of wonder and trepidation. He swallowed the lump in his throat as he walked up to stand behind her, remembering all too well what she must be thinking as she observed the scene of her torture.

"Are you alright?" he murmured as gently as he could, not wanting to scare her, "Being here again, I mean?"

Hermione jumped a little when he started talking, but then her shoulders visibly relaxed and she turned around.

"I'm fine," she replied softly, avoiding his gaze, "It's not as bad as I thought it would be. Coming to this place. It feels different somehow."

Draco nodded, knowing exactly what she meant. It was how he had been able to continue living here when so many foul memories had occurred within these very walls. The manor was no longer infected by that pervading sense of dark magic. The air felt crisper and cleaner somehow, and the terrifying fog of the dementors had returned to Azkaban once more. The garden was alive again, busy with different birds and flowers for each new season.

Eventually Hermione lifted her eyes to stare at him, and he felt himself shiver with fear and desire and hope. His hands clenched themselves into white knuckled fists against his will.

"Is it true what Harry told me?" she asked in a low voice, her brows tugging together in a frown that made her forehead crease right in the middle just as he remembered, "That you were the one who helped save me that night?"

Draco licked his lips, which had become so dry it felt like rubbing sandpaper together. He was strangely pleased that Potter had revealed this to her, but also worried about her reaction. Dobby had died that night as well, after all. She might resent him for it.

"Yes. But it was Dobby who really rescued you. He was far braver than me, I fear."

Hermione smiled sadly, turning to look out over the gardens again.

"Don't say that," she said so quietly that he had to strain to hear it. He felt his heart thump in his chest and stepped towards her.

"Hermione…" he wasn't sure what to say. She had come here to talk to _him_ hadn't she? He wanted to drop to his knees and beg her forgiveness, but hated the thought of revealing how pathetic he had become. So he took the easy road and cleared his throat, "How did you get here? The wards on the manor are almost impenetrable."

She smirked lightly and turned her chin so that she could glance at him over her shoulder.

"Don't be angry, but your mother paid me a visit."

Draco blinked for a few moments, absorbing that information, before he scowled darkly to himself.

"That meddling woman," he muttered under his breath, "What did she say to you? Did she force you to come here?"

Hermione shook her head and turned back towards him.

"No. She came to our apartment a few days ago and gave me a royal telling off about how I'd treated you. She told me the incantation for your floo. But I came of my own free will."

He breathed a little sigh of relief that she had voluntarily shown up; at least she _wanted_ to see him. He had felt grim for a moment thinking that she had been forced here and didn't want to see him at all. But then he frowned again at what his mother might have said.

"She had no right to go see you-"

"She had every right," Hermione countered calmly, interrupting him, "she was scared for her son, and I'm glad she had the guts to speak her mind. She was quite persuasive."

Draco raised his brows in surprise. He could well imagine how persuasive his mother could be; he had firsthand experience.

"She told you off?" he asked quietly.

Hermione nodded, a wry smile touching her lips.

"Yes, I felt properly chastised."

Draco frowned. He stalked over to the bedside table and placed his wand down, not wanting to appear threatening or scare her off when it seemed she had already been intimidated enough. His mind was still puzzling through what she said, and he scowled in confusion.

"Why?" he asked quizzically, piercing her with a stare, "Why would she do that? You did nothing wrong."

Hermione's eyes widened and she stared at him in shock for a few moments. He wasn't sure why she seemed so stunned, but a look of intense consternation was on her face as if she was upset by what he had said. He tried to think of how he could have offended her. She bit down hard into her bottom lip, almost until she drew blood, and cocked her head to the side.

"You really believe that don't you?" she asked so softly he had to strain to hear it.

"Of course I do," he replied automatically. It didn't even require thinking about. _He_ was the one who had this guilt eating away at him every day. Hermione sighed and crossed her arms over her chest, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot.

"But she's right. The reason I came here to talk to you is because I wanted to apologise…"

Draco spluttered in disbelief. He ran his hands through his hair shakily and actually chuckled, though it was a dark, strained sound.

"Don't be ridiculous! I am the one who needs to apologise. Hermione-"

He paced frantically back and forth a couple of times, messing up his hair and ruining his earlier attempts to make it presentable. After he managed to take a few deep breaths, Draco approached her in two large steps and grabbed her shoulders firmly. She wouldn't be able to escape it this time; he was going to make her stop and listen to what he had to say.

"You have no idea how sorry I am for what I did to you. It was unforgivable. You had helped me for months; you took care of me. You even let me be your friend for a while, when I had none of my own. And I fucked it up. I should have researched the spell for longer, or focused more on casting it. I should have admitted to you what I'd done once the war was over, even if it meant facing my own fear of rejection. Please believe me when I say that I have regretted my mistakes bitterly every day since it happened."

Hermione's bottom lip shook a bit as she gazed up at him. He felt his hands clenching her shoulders tighter as he became lost deep in the brown pools of her eyes.

"You say you regret not casting it properly, and for not telling me…" she began hesitantly, her voice trembling, "…but you don't regret obliviating me."

She didn't seem angry or upset by the idea, just puzzled. Draco was confused as well as he stared down at her. He briefly considered lying to her, just to make amends and make her feel better, but he had promised himself recently to be completely honest with her now.

"No," he murmured softly, "I don't regret doing it. Hermione, you don't know…you can't possibly understand what drove me to do it, but-"

"Actually, I can," she whispered, the gold flecks in her eyes flickering fearfully.

"What?"

"Your mother was quite er... _specific_ about what happened to people in our situation. She told me exactly what you were forced to watch."

Draco shuddered, retracting his hands from her and stepping back with a shake of his head. He was still sort of hoping that Hermione would never learn of some of the more unpleasant aspects of being a Death Eater. She was so full of light and goodness that his soul felt all the more tarnished from having imprinted even a tiny amount of darkness onto her.

"I wish she hadn't," he muttered hoarsely, wincing and looking down at the floor.

Hermione stepped closer to him, so close that he could smell the light scent of her shampoo, and he wanted to bury his face into her curls and wrap the tendrils around his fingers.

"I'm glad I know," she told him, sincerity in her gaze.

Draco swallowed and stepped in towards her as well. They were standing very close now, and he took a deep breath in. His skin prickled in reaction. He tried to clamp down the desire that swept through him; he really wanted to lean that short space between them and kiss her, to taste her once more. Their time together had been so stupidly brief; he could scarcely remember what it felt like. But he didn't like how sadly she was peering up at him now.

"You told me you hate me," he said in a low voice, his hand twitching to reach out and touch her, but then holding back. Hermione visibly flinched, her head tilting down to stare dolefully at the ground.

"I did. But…I want you to know that I was… _confused._ "

Draco's heart skipped painfully. He wished that she would meet his eye, but she continue to stare downwards.

"What do you mean? Hermione?" She still remained motionless, but he could see that she was breathing quite heavily. He finally worked up the courage to reach out a shaky hand and touch her chin. He gave it a gentle nudge, making her raise her head to look him in the eye. His skin tingled where it met hers. She took a deep breath before she spoke.

"I shouldn't have said that to you," she eventually admitted in a sad voice, "It was wrong of me to treat you that way. And I'm sorry."

Draco shook his head in disbelief.

" _No_ , Hermione. You have nothing to be sorry for! It was me who-"

"Please Draco," she interrupted a bit more forcefully, "I know I reacted terribly. I panicked, I was hurt and scared, and I lashed out. But I was such a stupid fool."

Draco shook his head, letting his fingertips stroke her cheek tenderly. But before he could interrupt and deny what she was saying, she continued with a stubborn expression.

"I did the exact same thing to my parents. And they forgave me because I acted out of love. "

His hand jerked slightly against her face as he allowed the fluttering hope in his chest to bloom and spread until it felt exhilarating.

"What are you saying?" he asked stiffly.

Hermione bit her lip, giving him a sheepish look.

"I'm saying that I'm sorry I hurt you. I promised you once that I would never hate you. And I regret breaking that promise, even if just for an hour or a day."

Draco jolted into action, holding her face in his hands. She allowed the contact with just a small shudder of something that might have been anxiety.

"So you don't hate me?" he asked weakly, his tone pitifully excited.

"No, I don't hate you," she whispered with the tiniest of smiles.

Draco released the breath he had been holding in his lungs. He wasn't sure what to say. He had spent every moment since she had woken up despising himself for hurting her; there had been no hope of relief from a life of loneliness. And now here she was saying these things to him that filled him with courage.

"Hermione…you can't possibly forgive me for this," he stammered uncertainly, not quite willing to believe what was happening yet. He had spent too long convincing himself it was over.

She sighed and pulled away, taking a couple of steps backwards and looking at him seriously. She had that adorable little crease in her forehead where she frowned, and he almost allowed himself to smile fondly at her and scold her for pulling faces. Draco quashed the urge, forcing himself to focus on what she was saying.

"I'm not sure I have _yet_. I know I should. Harry seems to think so. And your mother, and even _my_ mother _…_ " Draco's eyebrows shot up in surprise at this, frankly stunned that so many people seemed to be supporting him, "But some of my pain is just too fresh. I went through a lot these last few years. And at least _I_ made sure that I could give my parents back their memories. _Your_ spell faded by accident. Draco…"

Hermione paused and wrapped her arms around herself in a slightly defensive gesture, as if she were cold. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before gazing at him with truly sad eyes.

"…Were you _ever_ going to tell me the truth? Or were you just going to move on as if it never happened? As if _we_ never happened?"

Draco lurched forwards a bit on his feet in horror, his skin crawling from the betrayed look that she was sending his way. He clenched his hands into fists and started to pace in front of her furiously.

"How can you ask me that?" he spat, feeling ill at the thought that he could so callously dismiss everything between them, "I wasn't _moving on,_ Hermione. I didn't forget it or shut it out. It was like a sickness in my gut every day, the feelings never left me, they just festered inside me. I've barely been living. You might not have remembered anything, but it _haunted_ me. What we had shared, and what I'd done to you."

Hermione seemed a bit dumbstruck. She was just watching him with a terrified gaze as he prowled around the room. He heard a slight sniffle and he turned to watch guiltily as a small crystal tear dripped down her check.

"Fuck," he swore softly, angry with himself for yelling at her. He was making a royal mess of this. But after all this time, he really had no idea what to do or say. He was just enraged by the very idea that he could forget her.

"So why didn't you _tell_ me?" she croaked, her own hands balled up at white knuckled as she glared at him.

"Why do you think?" Draco spun to face her, trying so hard not to think about how incredibly sexy she was when she was cross, "If Draco fucking Malfoy, the mean, pathetic boy who treated you like dirt at school had come up to you and told you that you were actually secret friends before he wiped it from your memory, would you have trusted him? Or would you have laughed in his face?"

Hermione's scowl darkened.

"I still deserved the truth!"

"Yeh, well I was a coward. I've always been a fucking coward, Hermione. You know this about me!"

She shook her head frantically.

"No you're not," she whispered quietly.

Draco wasn't sure what to say. She looked quietly confident, but still hurt. He sighed and shook his head, grinding his teeth together.

"Well then I guess I'm just stupid. Or a bloody masochist or something, because not telling you the truth has been killing me."

Hermione blanched and took a few steps closer to him again. The window was still open, and he shivered as he felt a breeze whip past him. It stirred the curls around her head, making them flutter languidly in the cold wind.

"All this time?" she murmured throatily, and Draco blinked and cocked his head to the side at her question.

"What?"

She licked her lips apprehensively and shuffled closer again.

"Do you still feel…the same way?" Draco's heart skipped about a hundred beats and he felt a little dizzy. When he didn't answer, Hermione moved even further towards him and continued, "What you said, just before you cursed me…"

Draco winced as he remembered his selfish parting words to her. Confessing his feelings had been a mistake, not because he didn't mean them, but because the memory of her face frozen in shock at hearing them had been burned into his mind ever since. She hadn't exactly looked thrilled. He shifted nervously from one foot to the other.

"I…I shouldn't have said it-"

He was about to apologize for any pain he might have caused from ruining what should have been a special moment between two people, two lovers. He wanted to express his remorse for choosing the most horrific moment possible to declare his love for her. But as soon as he started his remorseful speech, the most heartbreaking look of sorrow came over her face. Her lip wobbled and her eyes appeared desolate before her expression suddenly shut down to be replaced by a cool stare.

"Okay. It's fine, don't worry about it. You were really scared that night-"

Draco frowned at her reaction, before a wave of realisation hit him. She thought he was regretting saying it to her at all. He shouldn't have started expressing himself so poorly. She probably felt like he was having second thoughts. And she didn't want him to regret saying he loved her. Did that mean she welcomed his feelings? He cursed himself softly again. When she went to turn away and hide her disappointment, Draco jolted into action.

"Hermione-" He strode the short distance between them and grabbed her face, holding it in his hands firmly so that she couldn't look away. He melted into her brown gaze, watching closely as she bit into her bottom lip, "I have wanted you every day since we parted. I have been going crazy just missing talking to you, and watching you smile. I have despised every man who ever got to touch you. I'm jealous of Harry bloody Potter. I loathe Weasley. You were supposed to be mine."

Hermione's eyes flickered a bit crossly at that last once, and Draco almost smirked at her Gryffindor reaction. He was overwhelmed by how wonderful it was just feeling her little panting breaths on his cheek and the ringlets that framed her face brushing against his fingertips. Before he could really think about what he was doing, he allowed himself to fall headfirst into insanity, unable to resist any longer, not with her brown eyes staring up at him so trustingly, so longingly. He wound his fingers into her hair and tugged her forwards, pressing their lips together. It felt like torrential rain falling down on him after a long drought. Like a dark part of himself was being washed away. Draco shuddered and angled his head to kiss her thoroughly. She whimpered into his mouth and he felt his eyes roll up into his head.

Fuck, she tasted just as amazing as he remembered. He'd been replaying their kisses over in his head again and again, and imagining this moment in his feverish dreams, but nothing could compare to the real thing. And she was _so_ real. The warmth from her body was heady and soothing even though the air was chilly around them. And her lips…bloody hell, her lips were so soft and responsive. He couldn't get enough.

Draco had to separate their lips an inch to take a few gulping breaths of air. He leaned his forehead against hers. When he peered down at Hermione. He saw that she was looking a bit dazed, and her brows were drawn together in a confused frown. When he went to kiss her again she gently pulled back from him. His heart clenched.

"I can't…" she whispered, leaning away, "It's too soon. I need time."

She looked a bit panicky, and Draco instantly smothered his desire and nodded hurriedly.

"It's okay," he murmured, running his hands up and down her arms, and smoothing them over her hair. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly before she drew away from his arms.

"I should go," she said quietly, "I need to think about some things."

Draco watched silently as she spun around and picked up her coat, which she had dropped inside the room when she arrived. He wasn't sure what Hermione was feeling right now, but she had kissed him back. That had to mean something. He hoped so badly that she wanted him too. That she still cared about him. When it seemed like she was ready to go, he followed her to the bedroom door. Draco grasped her hand before she could leave and twisted her back around to face him.

"Hermione, please do something for me," he begged softly, and her eyes widened a bit in surprise.

"What is it?" she asked.

He tried to smile, but it cracked and came out looking half-demented. He tried again, aiming for his most appealing smirk.

"Go on a date with me."

"Go where?" Hermione asked in surprise, her brow quirking up curiously. Draco tucked a curl behind her ear, his smile widening.

"I'm serious. I want to take you to dinner, and have a real date together. Let's do it properly. Without having to keep it a big secret, or spend half our time finishing homework."

Hermione chuckled faintly and ducked her head, a light blush spreading on her cheeks.

"Come on, what do you say? Go on _one_ date with me," he pushed when she didn't answer for a while.

"Alright," she finally whispered, peering up at him and biting her bottom lip, "One date seems fair."

Draco beamed, his cheeks straining from ear to ear. He felt elated, his whole body alight with triumph. He just grinned stupidly down at her, and she was clearly trying not to smile lightly herself at his childlike reaction.

"This Friday night. I'll come by your place around seven."

"Okay," she agreed.

"Okay," he repeated in an overly cheerful tone.

Hermione shook her head indulgently at his enthusiasm.

"Goodnight, Draco," she murmured, backing away.

"Sweet dreams," he replied, watching the space where she had been standing even after she left.

He couldn't seem to wipe the stupid smile off his face after she was gone. An hour ago he had thought his life was destined to be one pile of shit after another, but now he was going on a date with Hermione Granger.

And he was going to make damn sure she loved every minute of it.

….

 **Thanks for reading, more to come soon! I haven't decided yet how their date will go. It will require some thought. Please leave your helpful reviews, as always!**


	21. Chapter 21

Hey guys,

Sorry this isn't another chapter - I can't write that quick! - but it was brought to my attention by a guest reviewer that this story was on another website. I checked it out and yes, it turns out that someone has copied and pasted BOTH of my stories (Unexpected and Forget Me) under their own username on adult fan fiction org. I think this is crazy! I don't know who would steal an entire story and pass it off as their own, but they have.

Please let me know if you see it around anywhere else. I just write this for fun, because I really enjoy writing stories and I adore Harry Potter, so it's disappointing that people think that it gives them the right to pass off my property as their own.

Anyway... enough ranting. I have reported it, but if you do see it there yourself please report it as well, because I am only posting on this site.

Thank you to all my loyal reviewers and readers who keep me going! You are sublime.

Emara88


	22. Chapter 22

**Author's Note: Thanks for all your supportive messages. The site in question could easily prove plagiarism and they deleted the person's account. Yay. And thanks to the guest reviewer who tipped me off!**

 **My last chapter didn't get as many reviews, but I'll be interested to see your reactions to this one. As always, JKR is our inspiration.**

….

"Argh I'm such an idiot! Why did I agree to this?"

Hermione paced nervously back and forth across the living room, spinning quickly and trying not to twist her shaking fingers in her hair. She had spent time carefully braiding it back and didn't want to make it frizz up. She was wearing a simple woollen dress with stockings and cute little ankle boots, but had been consumed by her anxiety over the choice for about an hour now. Hermione wasn't usually prone to fits of feminine vanity, but this was completely outside her experience. With Ron everything had been casual and easy; they had been friends for so long it would have been silly to dress up. But the last time she had socialised with Draco they had been at school together. Things were different now. She wasn't sure where she stood with him, or even how she really felt about him. There had been baggage between them before, but now it seemed like a near mammoth wall of issues to contend with. They were both grown up now, they had come out the other side of a war, and were probably very different people to when they were at school. And add to that the fact that Hermione had been on virtually no dates ever in her life outside Ron, it made sense that she was rather terrified.

Needless to say she wasn't all that familiar with what she was supposed to do to prepare for a date, especially not with one of the richest young men in the wizarding world. She had a vision of him prancing around a snooty restaurant, making small talk with the sommelier while some fancy pureblood girl clung to his arm with a simpering smile. Hermione snorted. He himself had spoken of his disgust for that image in one of their conversations in the library.

It didn't help that in just one conversation with him earlier that week she had been painfully reminded about how damn sexy he was. He made her completely lose her senses, and her mind had wandered several times into dangerous but thrilling territory that day. Particularly when he had kissed her… her toes literally curled up at the memory.

"Stop freaking out, Mione!"

She glared over at Harry, but he just laughed at her from his place on the couch. He shook his head at her panicked behaviour, turning back to his game. George had come over about an hour before to hang out with him, and the two were deeply immersed in the screen in front of them, playstation controllers gripped avidly in their hands. George had been taking refuge at their apartment a lot the last year, anything to escape the bad memories and fussing of Molly at the burrow. He had a soft spot for Harry as well, his silent partner in the joke business that he now ran with Lee Jordan and Seamus Finnegan. And he had been blown away by some of the muggle inventions that Harry had shown him. He had a keen, curious mind and had absolutely devoured the videos and movies that the other boy introduced him to. At that moment George looked up at her with a quizzical brow, pausing their game.

"So, remind me again why you're going on a date with Draco Malfoy of all people?"

Hermione shook her head, knowing very well that he was teasing her.

"It's a long story," she sighed, knotting her fingers together. She glanced up at the clock and saw that it was five minutes to seven. Her heart skipped.

"I would think this was a big prank if it wasn't for the fact that it's…well… _you._ I don't think you have it in you to trick me so cruelly."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she grumbled, and George smirked.

"You would never be so mean. Gossip this juicy is rare, so naturally I can't wait to tell absolutely everyone I know."

Hermione spun to face him with her hands on her hips.

"You will do no such thing George Weasley. I'll make you take an unbreakable vow if I have to."

George threw his head back and groaned.

"Fine! Little harridan. I'll keep your naughty secret."

"It's not…we're just…argh!"

"Why are you so worried?" Harry asked with a small frown, and Hermione felt her stomach flutter.

"I don't know! He always…it's as if…being around him again. He just makes me melt into a useless puddle somehow, and I completely lose my mind and all control of my body…" she rambled a bit. Both boys tried not to look too disturbed or sickened at the mention of her obviously lusty thoughts.

"I didn't even realise that someone like him would be capable of showing an interest in…well…a muggleborn."

Hermione flopped down onto the arm of the couch with a frown.

"Yes well, you don't know the whole sorry tale, do you?" she muttered darkly, her pulse racing as the minute hand moved closer and closer to the twelve at the top of the clock. George chuckled.

"Fine, be mysterious!" he yelled, throwing his hands in the air. Harry laughed and gave him a good shove, but he continued, "Just please let me be present when you break the news to ickle Ronnie. He's going to lose his mind!"

Hermione rolled her eyes, but before she could respond, there was a firm knock on the door and she shot to her feet with a panicked gasp. Her eyes darted to the clock.

"He's early!" she moaned, "why is he early?"

She waved her hands wildly for a second, causing Harry and George to burst into another round of laughter.

"Answer the door!" Harry insisted, egging her on with wide, excited eyes. She thought it was quite possible that Harry was more excited about this date than her. She was just a hot bundle of nerves about the whole thing. Like a firecracker waiting to go off.

Hermione took a deep breath and crossed over to the door. She could feel Harry and George staring at her back with eager matching grins. With a trembling hand she pulled the door open and stared at Draco as he came into sight.

He was looking quite nervous too, but there was an energy about him that spoke of a deep and thorough anticipation for the night. When he saw her, his face broke into a relieved smile, and she felt herself go giddy. Why did she always seem to forget how bloody handsome he was? He was a lot more unruffled tonight; he had been a mess last time she saw him. Between the overgrown stubble and the gaunt expression she had barely recognised him.

But now he was clean, and even from here she could tell he smelt amazing; fresh and perfumed with some rich cologne that she could remember from school. His outfit was smart, but not too over the top; he was actually wearing some dark muggle jeans surprisingly, with a collared shirt and jumper. Hermione almost groaned out loud. He looked practically edible.

She shook her head at the whimsical thought, and opened the door a little wider.

"Hi," she said, cursing herself for not being able to think of anything more intelligent than that to say.

"Good evening," he replied just as anxiously. There was a slightly awkward pause, before she waved him inside.

"Come in," she said, and he sidled past her into the hall, making his way through to the living room.

"Draco!" Harry greeted warmly, putting down his controller and standing to shake the other boy's hand. Hermione stood self-consciously to one side as they chatted briefly about the latest news from the ministry. George stood in the background grinning.

"So Malfoy, how did you get the balls to ask out our Hermione?" he spoke up at last, clearly unable to stay silent any longer. Everyone turned to stare at the ginger haired boy, but he just continued to smile cheerfully.

"Uh…well-" Draco stammered, but George interrupted him again.

"And more importantly, what did you do with the real Draco Malfoy?"

Harry and Hermione both snorted wryly as Draco looked a bit perplexed by the redhead's question. He certainly wasn't sure what to say. Hermione stepped forward to save him.

"Stop being so nosy, George. You're incorrigible."

"I'm what?" he asked as if offended, causing them to chuckle again.

"So where are we going?" she asked Draco, turning her back to effectively cut the Weasley boy out of the conversation.

Draco smiled and picked up her dark red coat that he saw was draped over the back of the couch.

"You'll find out soon enough," he teased gently, offering her the coat chivalrously. Hermione slipped her arms through the sleeves, enjoying the way his fingers lingered on her shoulders. She felt a shiver run up her spine and cursed herself. They hadn't even left home yet.

"Don't be out too late," Harry joked, and George came to stand next to him, throwing an arm around his shoulder with an exaggerated sigh.

"They grow up so fast."

Hermione rolled her eyes again, sending an indulgent smile their way.

"Goodnight boys," she hummed in a sing-song voice, and then a wave of boldness swept through her. As she took Draco's arm she gave a daring, mischievous smile back at them, "Don't wait up."

Both boys' mouths dropped open in surprise and she felt Draco's hand clench around her forearm impulsively. She was sure he hadn't meant to react so viscerally, and the thought made her quite pleased. His face blanched a bit, and she saw him swallow quite visibly. Her nerves calmed in that brief moment and she felt suddenly confident. This was Draco. _Her_ Draco. They had always shared a natural, light-hearted affection, even as friends.

Whatever he had in store for her that evening, she was looking forward to it with an eagerness that she hadn't felt in a very long time.

….

Draco thought she looked stunning tonight, in her adorable winter coat that was so very _Gryffindor_ in colour, and her little black boots that only came up to her ankles. She had pulled her hair back into a tamed, stylish braided bun, but all he really wanted to do was tear it apart and watch her curls spilling around her face. He loved her wild hair. It made him want to wrap his fingers through it and get tangled up in the downy weight.

He followed behind her as they made their way towards an apparition point nearby where they wouldn't be seen by any passing muggles. As they reached it, he pulled her into the side alley that led around the outside of a garden. In the dim light of the streetlamp he could just make out her features. She still looked quite nervous, as she had that little crease growing on her forehead, but she also appeared playful and excited. She was rocking back and forth on her heels as she smiled up at him impishly.

"Where to?" she asked curiously, but he didn't answer her. He just returned her cheeky smile and stepped very close. He encircled her arms with his and tugged her forwards so that she stumbled in towards his body. Then, making sure he remembered to concentrate – _destination, determination, deliberation… -_ he apparated them both to the edge of a restaurant district of a muggle town his mother used to take him to as a child. He was quietly pleased when they landed smoothly. He had been worried he would splinch them both, since all he seemed to be able to focus on was the scent of her freshly shampooed hair and the feel of her breath on his face.

"Oh!" she remarked, looking around at the bustling town square they emerged onto. Draco reluctantly released her arms and pointed towards the northern quarter, where there was soft music playing.

"That way. There's a great little tapas restaurant, with a bit of a twist."

Hermione's smile widened as he began to lead the way. He wasn't feeling bold enough yet to take her hand, but he still walked closely next to her, brushing shoulders and just enjoying being in her presence.

Draco experienced a little flutter of exhilaration spread through his stomach right down to his navel when he felt Hermione link her arm through his. It wasn't as intimate as holding hands, but it was nice to know that she wasn't scared of initiating contact between them.

As they made their way through the streets, Draco found a strange comfort in knowing that no one would recognise them. He had brought them to a muggle area quite deliberately for that reason. It was hard enough overcoming all the other issues between them without having photographers and journalists from the Daily Prophet chasing them around like mad dogs foaming at the mouth for an exclusive shot of the Gryffindor princess and the big bad Death Eater out on a date together. But here in this quaint muggle neighbourhood, they were protected by a wonderful layer of anonymity that they wouldn't normally have.

"Here it is," he said as they arrived at their destination, and Draco watched her face closely to see her reaction.

It was a sweet little restaurant with warm, low-hanging lanterns and vibrant artwork all around the walls. A man was in one corner playing guitar softly, giving the room a friendly atmosphere. But the most important feature was the many rustic old bookcases lining the walls. There were books spilling everywhere all over the shelves, from foreign language, to fiction and reference books. There was even a corner filled with dusty old antique texts. Draco watched her avidly as they walked through the front doors. He saw the exact moment when Hermione became aware of the cosy little book theme, because she let out a gasp and clapped one hand over her mouth. Her eyes widened hungrily as she stared around at the restaurant, and he even felt her bounce up and down a little next to him with eagerness.

A friendly waiter showed them to their table – a tiny table with cushioned chairs sequestered between some shelves towards the back – but Hermione barely noticed the man. She was too busy taking everything in, and craning her head to try and read the titles around her. She practically stumbled out of her coat. Draco smiled fondly. He thanked their waiter and pressed a menu into her hand when she continued to look around eagerly without paying attention to him.

Eventually, Hermione blushed as she accepted the menu, and buried her head in it with an embarrassed laugh. She peered over the top of it, giving him a sly once over.

"Alright you got me. I'm impressed."

Draco grinned.

"I thought it was an obvious choice, really."

Hermione rolled her eyes lightly, casting furtive glances at the shelves either side of her.

"How did you even find this place?" she asked curiously.

"My mother used to like going into town together when I was little."

Her eyebrows rose in surprise at that.

" _Muggle_ towns?"

"Well, we had to keep it a secret from Lucius," he replied sheepishly, trying to focus on the menu in front of him and not on the compassion shining from her eyes. He had almost forgotten how her simple kindness could light him up even in his darkest moments. He knew exactly what she was about to say before she even opened her mouth.

"Draco…I'm sorry about your father…" she began, but he gave her a quick warning look, waving his hand.

"Don't. He did bad things to you. He tried to kill you for Merlin's sake. You don't need to feel sorry that he's dead."

Hermione frowned and considered him over the top of her menu.

"I'm sorry that you're hurt," she amended gently, and he met her eyes with a grimace.

"So…you're still a bleeding heart Gryffindor then," he teased. She just groaned and glared at him until he laughed out loud.

"You mean I'm _nice_?" she corrected tartly.

"No. More like unbearably noble."

Hermione smirked at that, before she cast her eyes back to the menu. There was so much to choose from, but they finally managed to narrow it down to a few tiny platters and a bottle of red. Hermione seemed to bite her lip a bit as she had one last look at the menu before the waiter took it away and left them alone once more.

"What's wrong?" he asked when she continued to look anxious, but she just shrugged.

"It's nothing."

"Granger-"

He wasn't sure why he went back to using her last name; it just seemed like the perfect way to wheedle an answer from her. And sure enough her eyelashes fluttered a bit as she looked up at him with a resigned sigh.

"I've just been a bit more frugal recently. Mediwizard training at the university is…quite taxing on my savings. I'm not used to this kind of thing. Harry and I usually cook or get cheap takeaway."

Draco raised a brow in mild disbelief. He stared at her for a moment before grinning.

"You know I'm filthy rich, right?"

Hermione huffed, her lip twitching in amusement.

"It's the filthy part I'm worried about."

Draco chuckled. He smiled when the waiter delivered their wine and took a sip of the smooth vintage. It was certainly better that the scalding firewhiskey he'd been drinking recently. He watched as Hermione took a dainty sip as well, and her eyes widened in pleasure.

"Wow. Money can buy happiness," she teased.

Draco leaned forwards in his chair and studied her for a few moments. She was looking adorable tonight with her neat little braids, and her lip was swollen and red from biting down into it. It reminded him of their time at school together when they would sit opposite one another in the library.

"What?" she asked, blushing self-consciously and squirming a bit in her seat. Draco gave her a wicked smile.

"I was just remembering how much food you used to try to shove down my throat at every opportunity."

Hermione smiled fondly at the memory.

"Don't forget the hot chocolate."

He chuckled, shaking his head.

"You were insufferable."

"And _you_ were too stubborn for your own good," she argued.

Draco tilted his head in her direction, raising his wine glass slightly in acknowledgement.

"Well you won me over much more easily than I expected."

She giggled prettily and her cheeks tinged red a bit as she lowered her gaze. Her lower lip was pulled in between her teeth as she contemplated something.

"Can I ask you something?" she murmured quietly, and Draco leaned towards her again. Hermione copied him, wriggling forwards on her seat so their heads were close together.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Well, ever since I remembered, I've been wondering…when did it start for you?"

Draco cocked his head to one side.

"When did what start?"

She gave a sheepish little smile, and he felt a little thrill of electricity at the way she blinked slowly up at him with her deep brown eyes.

"When did you start…um…thinking about more than just friendship?" she appeared so embarrassed that he couldn't help but smirk at her. He appeared to think for a while, turning the question over in his head and teasing her by making her wait for his response. Then he gave her a look that he hoped was as sinfully cheeky as he could manage.

"Well let me see… it only took a couple of weeks before I realised I wanted you." When Hermione just looked puzzled, his smirk widened, "you have no idea some of the more explicit things I was thinking while we were arguing in that damn library. Of course, I was in a deep state of denial."

Hermione snorted. She had gone a deep red at his mention of how much he had wanted her. He watched smugly as she squirmed a bit in her seat.

"Naturally," she commented wryly, "Denial is your specialty."

He chuckled, running his hand through his hair, pushing it casually off his face and enjoying how avidly she was following what he was saying.

"But I didn't actually figure out that my feelings for you were real until you slipped me that Dreamless Sleep in class."

Hermione smiled fondly in remembrance.

"I was terrified about that," she admitted with a shaky laugh.

Draco grinned.

"And the rest is history. It just kept escalating from there. I craved your kindness like an addiction," he paused and tilted his head to one side, giving her a teasing smile, "Your turn."

Hermione turned a dark red. It spread from her cheeks down her neck and collarbone and disappeared into her dress. He followed it with his eyes, feelings himself heat as well in response.

"Well…um…it really hit me quite suddenly after New Years. On the Astronomy Tower…"

Draco felt a slight jolt in his stomach at the memory, and he couldn't help the little grin that played on his lips.

"Really?" he asked lightly.

Hermione shifted forwards again until their heads were so close together he could smell her perfume.

"Do you think if Snape hadn't interrupted us…" she trailed off with an awkward shrug as her blush deepened. Draco was giddy at the thought of what could have happened.

"I was dying to kiss you that night," he admitted in a slightly husky voice, and he saw her eyelashes flutter slightly as she let out a deep breath.

At that moment they were interrupted by their entrée arriving, and Draco cleared his throat and leaned back as the waiter placed it down between them.

As they ate their way through each subsequent platter that arrived at their table, their conversation turned to Hermione's healing course. He was curious to hear what she had been through since the war ended. She grumbled about one or two mediocre professors, making him chuckle at her temper, pleased he wasn't on the receiving end of it for once. He loved the way she was so passionate about what she was doing. She really cared about becoming a good mediwitch who could make a difference to people. He found it enchanting. Draco watched her carefully as she spoke, noticing the way her whole face lit up with enthusiasm, and how it made him feel light inside too. Her excitement was contagious.

Eventually her voice trailed off as she finished telling him about some ideas she had for her latest research project. Draco gulped when she shifted in her seat and nibbled on a mouthful of food. She was watching him with a wary frown.

"So…I've seen _you_ in the paper quite a lot-" she began, sounding a bit hesitant, and for good reason. He had made the society pages many times recently because of his habit of going out with people he didn't even like and getting drunk to forget himself. He wasn't proud of it. He had been on a self-destructive cycle for too long, and was ready to wake up from it.

"Yeh," he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck nervously, "Like I said earlier this week, I haven't been leading a healthy life in the last few years. I'm actually very…relieved that the spell backfired. It's forced me to confront my fears and snap me out of this nightmare I've put myself in."

Hermione's mouth turned down sadly. Her hand twitched a few times and he wasn't sure what she was doing. Eventually she seemed to work up a bit of courage and reached to place her hand on top of his.

He shivered at the contact, staring down at their joined hands with a tightening in his gut.

"I'm sorry," Hermione murmured softly, her brown eyes so wide he got completely lost in them for a moment before she continued, "Believe it or not, I know a little of what that feels like."

Draco turned his hand over and purposely entwined their fingers together. He ran his thumb over her soft skin, enjoying the way it caused goosebumps to prickle all over her arm.

"Your parents?" he asked. She nodded.

"I was terrified they would never speak to me again. I thought they would be too heartbroken about what I'd done."

Draco swallowed and clenched her hand in his.

"And they forgave you?" he asked curiously, knowing that she had already mentioned this at the manor the other day, and wanting to know more. Hermione smiled warmly, ducking her head self-consciously.

"They were much more level-headed than I was with you."

Draco chuckled. He was thrilled that their hands were still connected; maybe she had forgotten that they were touching. Or maybe she _wanted_ to hold his hand.

"I deserved everything you said to me. It was wretched, but fair."

Hermione shook her head, a crease forming between her brows.

"No, I went too far. I should have let you explain to me why you did it. My parents sat down with me and heard the whole story. They were upset, but at least they gave me a chance to talk about it," she let out a deep breath and shrugged stiffly, "I guess I was just too surprised, and hurt with you. I certainly wasn't thinking rationally."

Draco gripped her hand tighter, making her raise her eyes to his once more. He held her gaze for a long moment, feeling a bit weak at the intensity he found there.

"I behaved like a complete fool that night when I obliviated you. I shouldn't have gotten carried away with-" he trailed off when Hermione blushed darkly, shaking his head with a rueful smile as he thought of their heady kisses, and her wet heat around his finger that night, "-I can only imagine what was going through your mind when you woke up with _that_ as your freshest memory of us."

Hermione bit her lip, looking down at their joined hands again.

"It wasn't _all_ bad," she whispered.

Draco felt his heart skip, and a warm jolt in his navel made him slide forwards on his seat to get closer to her.

"Really?" he asked with a private little smile. Hermione chewed intently on her bottom lip, looking anywhere but at him.

"Really. Some parts of that night were very _good_."

Draco's eyes flickered down to the blush spreading darker across her chest and then back up. He could see that she was reliving those moments in her mind just as vividly as he was. She darted her tongue out to lick her bottom lip.

"What parts?" he asked huskily. Her eyes darted up before she went back to staring at their hands.

"I thought you were going to…" she trailed off a bit, looking nervous, before she finally got the courage to stare him in the eye again, "I wanted you to keep going," she admitted.

Draco almost groaned out loud at the sinfully innocent little look she gave him. Her dark lashes fluttered as if she wanted to close her eyes and remember that moment in every single detail. He had to remind himself quite sternly that they were in a crowded restaurant, so taking her here on the table was probably a bad thought to cross his suddenly impatient mind. But he couldn't believe how quickly his body and his fevered imagination remembered desiring Hermione Granger. It was like he had never spent a day apart from her. He could remember in frightening detail how he had resorted to counting her freckles in Arithmancy class to distract himself from thoughts of slipping his hand under the table to touch her, or kissing her sweet thighs as he parted them…

"I wanted you so much that night, I almost forgot what I was doing there," he finally managed to reply in a croaking voice.

Hermione was breathing a bit heavier, and her fingers had started to stroke gently over his hand in an unconscious dance. She probably didn't even know she was doing it.

"So why did you stop?" she asked, looking almost disappointed. Draco shifted uncomfortably in his seat, painfully aware that it was inappropriate to start getting aroused in the middle of a muggle restaurant.

"I didn't realise that you…I thought you had…" he choked a bit on the words, and Hermione gave him a puzzled frown.

"What?" she prompted. He licked his lips and huffed out a shaky breath.

"I didn't want your first time to be with the pathetic boy who was about to curse you and then kill Albus Dumbledore. It would have been…beyond wrong."

Hermione nodded in understanding, giving him a soft smile.

"Thank you," she murmured quietly, and Draco was pleased that he had made the right decision. Even though it had nearly killed him instead. He blinked in surprise when he noticed that she was watching him with a shining, proud gaze.

"What are you looking at me like that for?" he asked nervously, his pulse quickening as her smile widened into a slightly mischievous grin.

"I always knew you were actually quite _noble_ too underneath all that Slytherin bravado."

Draco rolled his eyes in an exaggerated gesture of disgust.

"Eugh, please," he scoffed, giving her a sly smile, "I'm still wicked to the core, sweetheart."

Hermione almost laughed, but then he watched as she blinked slowly a few times and wet her lips with her tongue.

"Prove it," she challenged in a low voice, and Draco felt like he was suddenly on fire. He could feel a trembling start from the tips of his fingertips and he almost cursed loudly.

Before he could say anything – like a witty retort or more likely a dumb stuttering curse – the waiter sauntered over with the bill, flipping it down onto the table in front of him. Draco was still staring in stunned silence at Hermione over the table and didn't even look down to see the final amount. She was sharing with him a deep gaze that was at the same time nervous and uncertain, but also needy. He had seen a lot of different expressions on her face throughout their friendship, but he had only seen _this_ look a handful of times. He remembered the first time he had seen it; when she had been wearing that red dress outside Slughorn's party. They had bumped into each other and she had looked slightly flushed, and her eyes a bit out of focus. He had also seen it in the hospital wing, and in that alcove near the Gryffindor common room. When he had pressed her into the wall and swallowed every one of her nervous little whimpers.

Before the waiter could walk away, Draco scrambled clumsily for his wallet. He hurriedly slapped down a few notes onto the dish before rising to his feet with an embarrassingly loud scrape of his chair across the floor. If the waiter was shocked by his abrupt movement, then he didn't notice. He was too busy staring at Hermione, who was watching him with a spark of something fresh and thrilling roused in her eyes.

When had the restaurant become so crowded? And hot? Draco grabbed Hermione's coat off the chair and offered it to her hastily.

"Let's go for a walk," he said through gritted teeth. Maybe a stroll through the cool evening air would calm him down. He needed to do something or he was likely to embarrass himself further by making a scene.

Hermione's eyes widened slightly, but she did as he suggested, tugging her coat on and following him out of the restaurant. When he started to walk at a brisk pace down the cobbled footpath, Hermione grabbed his arm, pulling him to a stop and forcing him to face her.

"Draco!" she called to him with a slight laugh, but he just scowled darkly, trying not to dwell on all the memories of her which were all fighting to take hold of his thoughts, "What's wrong with you?" she asked, bewildered. He clenched his jaw tightly, trying to force a shaky smile onto his face.

"What makes you think something's wrong?"

Her eyebrows shot up high on her forehead.

"Uh…well for starters you just paid 200 pounds for a meal that only cost about 50."

Draco lowered his head with a chuckle at his own foolish behaviour.

"Would you believe me if I said it was just a generous tip?"

Hermione folded her arms in front of her.

"No," she retorted firmly, waiting for an answer. He squirmed a bit under her gaze, before finally throwing his hands up in the air in defeat.

"Bloody hell," he muttered, before raising his voice for her, "Fine. I want you."

Hermione blinked, frowning with confusion.

"Okay…" she started, still puzzled, "…so did that make you lose your ability to count to 50?"

"You don't understand," he growled, pulling her to one side of the pathway so they were nestled under an old building just off the street. The lamps cast a dim yellow glow onto their faces, but not much. "I want you _right now_. I can't even think about anything else. It's been so long for me, and now you're here and…I can't help myself."

Hermione's eyes fluttered in surprise. She almost laughed, but then sobered and looked at him with her head tilted to one side. There was an awkward pause as she watched him anxiously.

"So…" she began, her voice a bit croaky as if she hadn't used it in a while, "That's why we practically ran out of the restaurant without warning?"

Draco scuffed his feet a bit guiltily, dropping his gaze to the pavement. He was supposed to be dazzling her with his charm, not freaking her out.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, letting out a deep breath. He was watching her feet as she stepped in close towards him. Her toes were almost pressed up against his before he finally raised his head to meet her eye.

"How long?" she asked, and he found himself staring at her lips as she spoke. They were a little bit cracked from the wind, but red and swollen from the icy air whipping around them.

"Huh?" he asked distractedly, and her little pink tongue darted out to lick her bottom lip.

"How long has it been for you?" her voice was curious, and a tiny bit sad. Which he supposed was fair. He had basically been an inferi the last few years. He would feel sorry for himself too.

"I haven't…not since before sixth year."

Hermione let out a little sympathetic gasp, and he met her eyes reluctantly. He could feel the humiliation making his face warm despite the cool temperature. When she didn't say anything, just watched him with those intense brown eyes, he felt compelled to keep going.

"I tried a couple of times…but it just felt wrong. I wasn't ready."

Hermione blanched a bit, cocking her head with a sorrowful expression.

"Draco, it's been _years,_ " she murmured gently. He sighed, ruffling his hair nervously as he gave a small self-deprecating laugh.

"Yeh, well…you're not exactly easy to get over."

A car rumbled past them, but otherwise the street was fairly empty. The distant echoes of laughter and music could still be heard from the nearby restaurants, but it was a dim haze in the background. Draco couldn't meet her eye again; he was just staring at a slightly cracked brick on the wall next to them. It felt like hours, but was probably only a few painfully long seconds, before Hermione moved again.

The first thing he became aware of was a soft hand brushing against his jaw. He let the fingers guide his chin up until he was looking at her again. She was watching him intently, as though working out a particularly difficult puzzle. That crease was back between her brows, and a couple of strands of hair that had come loose from her braid were fluttering against her cheek. He felt his mouth go dry and he tried to swallow unsuccessfully. Draco waited to see what she would say to him, but she didn't speak at all. Instead, after what felt like an age, she leaned forwards and placed an infuriating, not quite chaste kiss on his bottom lip. He was completely frozen. He continued to watch her through hooded eyes as his breathing started to come out in pants. It was a maddening kiss. Her lips barely brushed over his. They pressed down so lightly he thought he might be imagining it, before she pulled away.

Their gazes were locked on each other; steely blue and warm brown. She blinked up at him and that desire in them had returned tenfold. Although the kiss had been relatively chaste, her eyes told a different story. They flashed with some undefinable need, and he saw her jaw clench slightly. With that one look she was begging him to lose control, and he was only too willing to comply.

Draco felt the last tether of his sanity snap deep inside him, and he grabbed her face roughly in his hands. This time it was anything but chaste. They both threw themselves headlong into a kiss that contained all the pent up passion and time lost between them. It was unbridled. Draco was barely aware that he had pushed her back into the brick wall behind her until he heard her inhale sharply when her back came into contact with it. He was too busy devouring her mouth and memorising her taste all over again, relishing the hints of spices and red wine and something that was indescribably _her._ She kissed him back forcefully, drawing him down towards her with hands that gripped his hair like a vice, but he loved the slight stinging at his roots. He arched his back and pressed his body against her as he ran his tongue along her bottom lip once and then twice, seeking an invitation that she was only too happy to accept. When their tongues stroked against each other for the first time they both groaned. Draco angled his head to taste her as deeply as he possibly could.

Eventually they both had to part so they could gasp for air, and Draco pressed his forehead against hers. His arms encircled her, pressing against the brick wall behind her and keeping her as close to him as possible, as if he were afraid she might run away or he would wake up.

"Shit…Hermione," he mumbled against her lips, placing a couple of heady kisses there between each word, "you have no idea how long I've wanted to kiss you."

She chuckled softly, tilting her head back as he nibbled down her neck.

"Tonight? Or in general?" she asked with a shy smile.

"Always," he groaned against her neck just below her ear, and heard her shiver, "Dinner was lovely, but I spent the whole time wishing I could clear the table and take you on it."

Hermione tilted her head back and stared at him in surprise. He hated how she thought it was shocking for someone to want her that badly. He would be perfectly happy to dispel any self-doubt she still had, several hundred times in fact.

"What happens now? Are we still on a date or-" she asked in a husky voice, and Draco quickly stemmed her questions by kissing her hungrily again. He tried to wind his fingers into her hair like he always dreamed, but found his way blocked by that damned braid. Draco clumsily grappled with the hair, running his fingers hurriedly over all the pins and yanking them out, making sure he was efficient but didn't hurt her. The soft tinkering of the pins hitting the pavement almost made him smirk, but he was too focused on his task. Eventually he managed to untangle the hair from the braid and relished the way it sprung into heavy curls, spilling around her shoulders. He linked his fingers through it at last and kissed her deeply. If Hermione was confused by the little act of neediness from him then she didn't say anything. When they parted for air again, he noticed the way she was breathing heavily and leaning against the brick wall in a boneless heap as if she couldn't stand without the support.

"Draco-" she whispered, and he gave her one last kiss before pulling back. He had promised himself he would give her a real date; that he would court her properly. And even if he died from longing, he would at least try harder to make her happy.

"Do you feel like ice cream?" he murmured, stepping back and running his hands through his hair, which was a total mess at this point. Hermione blinked up at him in confusion. She looked thoroughly snogged right now. Her lips were swollen and her hair tumbling all around her from his attentions. Once his words registered through her dazed look, she stood up a little straighter, putting her hands on her hips in an almost bossy stance. Her brows drew together in an adorable frown and Draco couldn't help but smile as she spluttered,

" _Seriously?_ "

….

 **I'm mean, I know. Too much happening for a whole chapter. Thanks for your continued readership and support. What will happen next? Please leave lovely reviews.**


	23. Chapter 23

**Author's Note: Okay, take a deep breath. Sorry for any typos. As always, JKR is the real witch in this story.**

"Seriously?" Hermione demanded, feeling completely flustered as she stared at Draco in disbelief. Her hair was in disarray since he had wrestled it from her braided bun, and her lips stung from being snogged so thoroughly.

Draco was panting heavily as she glared at him. He smiled sheepishly at her as he took another small step backwards to get space between them. Hermione wasn't sure what had just happened. One moment she was being pressed into the wall as he feasted on her lips, and the next he was suggesting they go get some ice cream and she was left spluttering in bewilderment.

"Well, we left the restaurant before we could order any dessert," he muttered a bit awkwardly, shifting back and forth on his feet. Hermione's mouth dropped open to gape at him.

When he had revealed in a nervous rush how much he wanted her, she had felt herself melt into a puddle at his feet. They had left the restaurant in such a hurry that she had been a bit dazed, but all her expectations had quickly gone out the window. She had braced herself for tonight by anticipating nothing more than a dinner between friends trying to reconnect. She figured that with all their issues as a result of the memory charm, that they would take things slowly and enjoy each other's company again as they became reacquainted. But she hadn't counted on the chemistry that still burned between them like something ablaze with longing; or the fact that he had waited years for this moment between them. His desperation had fuelled her own. And although it seemed cruel to even think this, she had never experienced this kind of raw need with Ron. Dinner had been a test of more than just _his_ resolve; she had never before been so conscious of herself and her body, than sitting across from him as he pinned her with his smouldering eyes. And now that he had admitted how hard he had been struggling to contain his desire the whole time, the tension between them had become palpable. She had thrown herself into the kiss as eagerly as he had, her earlier intentions be damned. She wanted to kiss him. She wanted so much more than that if she was honest with herself. And it was very obvious that he wanted her too; even without his bumbling confession this would have been clear to her. His kiss had revealed more than just his innate ability to snog her like the world was ending. She had felt just how ready he was for this, pressed against her stomach as her back hit the wall. It was surprisingly easy to admit how much that realisation had made her ache for him.

And now…now he looked like he wanted to be anywhere else but here, and he was suggesting they go back to the café district. So she was understandably cross.

"What the hell, Draco?"

"Do you _not_ want dessert?"

Hermione scoffed.

"Not after that! Why did you stop?"

Draco smirked, tilting his head to one side.

"You didn't want me to stop?" he asked huskily. Hermione grabbed at the courage to step closer to him, but paused when he flinched.

"Well…no. You could have kept going-"

Draco held up his hands almost defensively. His body stiffened and a pained grimace crossed his face.

"Don't say that, please!" he looked horrified. Hermione's frown deepened.

"What? Why not?"

He winced.

"Because it took a lot of effort for me to stop. And if you let me keep going you'd end up regretting it."

She scowled and shuffled a bit closer to him.

"Who says I'd regret it?" she responded with a pout. Draco groaned and rubbed his hands over his face.

"Stop it! I'm trying to do the right thing here."

Hermione cocked her head to one side. She inched closer to him again.

"So _now_ you're trying to do the right thing?" she asked wryly, making him let out a faint chuckle, "this is the moment you've decided to not be a selfish Slytherin and take what you want? Your timing is atrocious."

He ran his hand nervously through his hair, spinning around to lean against the brick wall. His head fell back against it with a dull thud.

"I thought it was gentlemanly," he murmured with a slight smile. Hermione snorted.

"Since when have _you_ been a gentleman?"

"Since always," he retorted with a grin. She watched him squirm uncomfortably as she leant against the wall next to him. Draco sobered a bit and sighed, "I thought we should try to slow down. I had intended to take you on a classy date, not start feeling you up in some dark corner of a muggle town."

Hermione felt herself quiver at his obvious disappointment. A large part of her liked that he had planned to be chivalrous, but that he had gotten carried away.

"You didn't exactly hear me complaining," she said quietly, staring at a flaky spot of brick on the wall between them.

"That still doesn't mean I should have let it go so far. You deserve better."

Hermione let out a deep breath, leaning her head against the wall and blinking up at him.

"You're probably right."

He tilted his head to rest next to hers. They were leaning parallel to each other against the wall, staring into each other's eyes in the dim lighting.

"I'm absolutely right."

She gazed up at him for a moment; he looked so sincere, but that burning heat hadn't left his eyes. They flickered down to stare at her lips, and she licked them nervously.

"We've been through so much, we shouldn't forget that…" she started croakily.

"There's a lot we still need to talk about," he agreed.

"Exactly," she nodded vigorously, but her body shivered when he shifted from foot to foot, clearly still struggling to control his own instincts. Draco drew in a deep, shuddering breath.

"We shouldn't rush into anything," he muttered, and Hermione swallowed.

"Definitely not."

….

…

..

Hermione moaned with embarrassing strength as her back hit the wall for a second time. Draco's ice cream dropped to the pavement with an odd squelching sound as his cold lips slammed into hers. She felt the breath leave her lungs as the bricks winded her and he devoured her. He kissed her lips with purposeful, lingering strokes, angling his head to the side to stroke his tongue roughly against hers. He tasted like chocolate mint.

Hermione's eyes rolled back into her head. It turned out that ice cream hadn't been a wise idea after all. They had strolled around for a few minutes eating them in awkward, thoughtful silence before it had gone rapidly downhill. In what she could only describe as a sudden fit of insanity they had decided to swap a taste of each other's ice creams. The moment her pink tongue had darted out to lick at Draco's cone, his eyes had gone wide and he had dropped it to the ground with a splatter. The next second he had been kissing her violently. It wasn't sensual and exploratory like their previous kiss; it was wild. Their mouths opened, clashing roughly as teeth scraped against lips. When Hermione felt a sticky droplet wander down her wrist she jerked her hand and dropped her own ice cream to the ground next to Draco's. Dessert was quickly forgotten as they attacked each other's lips with a ferocity born from too many years of wasted time. She felt like a teenager again, back in that alcove at Hogwarts snogging Draco like her life depended on it. Her knees were weak, and she was suddenly glad for the rough wall scraping at her back because it was keeping her upright.

"This is too fast," she murmured against his mouth between kisses. She felt like she had to say _something,_ if only to stem the embarrassing moans that kept escaping her as Draco's lips started to make their way down the column of her throat.

"We should stop," he agreed with a groan against her skin, but he didn't stop kissing her. He seemed to have no intention of slowing down at all.

She took in a sharp breath as his hands stroked firmly over her hips. They slipped around to her arse and tugged her forwards so that her hips were angled up and pressing against his. The feel of his hard length against her centre was enough to make her whimper pitifully into the cool night air and grip more tightly onto his shoulders. A jolt of longing shot down to her core and she rubbed against him to relieve it.

"Our dessert is ruined," she whined in a husky tone as her head fell back and landed with a thunk against the wall. By now Draco had trailed his way down over her collarbone and he was grappling with the top of her dress and coat, tugging the material of both down to kiss across the swell of her breasts.

"Fuck dessert," he growled, returning swiftly to her lips and kissing her hungrily. She wanted more. Hermione was suddenly far too hot, even with the chill air whipping briskly around them. When his warm hands brushed over the flushed skin of her lower back under her clothes, she bucked forwards and ground herself against his cock.

"Shit, oh god," he mumbled incoherently against her lips, dropping his head to her shoulder. His hands grabbed roughly at her hips and stilled them from making any further movements. When she whined softly and tried to move her lower body again, he tightened his hold on her.

"Stop, please-" he begged her, lifting to push his forehead against hers, panting his sweet chocolate mint breaths against her face.

"I don't want to," she argued in a low voice that she barely recognised as her own. Draco's hands jerked up to press against the wall either side of her head.

"You're killing me, Granger," he groaned, kissing her again a few times in quick succession, but not allowing himself to linger, "I was supposed to be stronger than this."

"We both need more," she argued breathlessly, leaning forwards as much as she could in their position and kissing his bottom lip. She tilted her hips to try and rub against him. When he didn't allow this, she managed to slip a hand down between them, touching him through his jeans. She stroked her fingers lightly over his length that was pressed against the front seam, caressing him as best as she could through the denim. With lust fogging her mind, all she knew for sure was that it was her turn to take control of this. Draco needed to know that she was ready for this as much as he was. He was only holding back because he thought she might not want this deep down. But she did want this, she realised with sudden, painful clarity.

Her unsubtle hint worked perfectly, as she knew it would. When Draco felt her hand on him, his eyes rolled up into his head and he kissed her furiously once more as he bucked into her touch.

"Ugghh…Fuck waiting," he finally grunted in surrender, "I've waited too long for this already." After one more soul-searing kiss, Hermione felt the earth whip out from underneath her. He had apparated them, Merlin knew how when his thoughts must be as fuzzy as her own. Hermione squealed a bit as she felt a sharp tugging on all sides and she was sucked into it, before reappearing with a relieving pop. She felt a bit dizzy from being dragged through an unexpected side-along, and Draco had to steady her with his hands as they both stumbled a bit upon entry. Her eyes darted quickly around them and she recognised his partially lit bedroom in the manor. It was a lot cleaner than it had been the other day when she had come for her unannounced visit. Obviously he had allowed the elves in to tidy it since then. She had a split second to remember just how ridiculously opulent his room was before he was kissing her again.

Now that he had given in, Draco was relentless, just as she hoped he would be. He pushed her backwards and they stumbled in the general direction of his bed. They both tripped awkwardly as they got there, and Hermione fell back onto it as Draco towered over her. Had he always been this tall? His usually steely blue eyes were burning madly as he stared down at her and Hermione quivered as she blinked up at him. Her thoughts were muddled and hazy. She just knew that everything had to be more, faster, deeper.

 _No_ , she thought distantly as Draco dropped to his knees before the bed and began tugging forcefully at her coat to get it off her, _it had never been like this with Ron._

The cruel comment teased at the edge of her thoughts as she allowed Draco to strip the clothes from her body. It wasn't fair, but she couldn't help making the comparison. Things with Ron had always been straightforward, routine… restrained. There was nothing controlled about this. She was just holding on for dear life as her body demanded and took and gave anything and everything it wanted, and she was just trying to make sure she remembered as much as she could in amongst the fog of sensations.

By this point Draco had managed to tug down her stockings and slip them off along with her boots. She was still wearing her dress, but she felt the sudden need to even the game between them. She slapped Draco's hands away playfully and began tearing at the buttons on his shirt. He had discarded his sweater earlier, and she felt a thrill when she exposed each inch of smooth, pale skin. Her fingers caressed him almost numbly as she pushed the shirt from his shoulders.

"Enough," Draco grumbled huskily, and he rose up to kiss her forcefully. He pressed her back against the mattress as he licked at her lips and suckled on her. At one point she even felt his teeth sink down into her bottom lip and she moaned as he nibbled on her, the sting only adding to her pleasure.

At the same time as he was kissing her so roughly, he was also exploring her thoroughly with shaking hands. She didn't know what to do except squirm beneath him in delight. All the sensations blended into each other until she wasn't even sure what he was doing, or where he was touching her. It paled in comparison to the ache that was quickly thrumming to life in her core, begging for attention.

"Please, Draco-" she moaned incoherently against him, needing more.

"Tell me what you want…" he murmured back, panting, begging her for an answer. In response, Hermione reached down between them and grappled clumsily with his belt buckle. She clawed at it with trembling fingers, snapping open the buckle and pushing it aside to rip down the zipper in her hurry to feel him.

"Oh fuck…wait…Hermio-" whatever he was going to say faded into a low groan as he bucked into her hot little hand when it wrapped tightly around him. She felt him throb in her palm, and there was an answering pulse in her centre. Her panties were almost embarrassingly soaked through. She tried to stroke him once, then twice, but he reached down and grasped her hand tightly, ripping it away from him. Her hand flew up with a sting of pain, but the look in his eyes was almost deranged as he stared down at her.

"It's been so long," he muttered in explanation, his face flushing as he leant his forehead against hers. Hermione felt a pang of anguish for him, but it wasn't enough to cut through the scorching need still humming inside her.

"It's okay…" she whispered, but he just shook his head hastily.

"I feel like I'm on fire, I've been wanting this…wanting _you_ for so long," he repeated, rambling nervously as he pressed his weight down against her. He was trembling. Hermione tried to give him a comforting smile, but his eyes were now screwed shut so tightly he didn't see it.

"Hermione… _my_ Hermione. It's too much. I need you. Fuck being selfless. I need to be inside you. Please let me-"

Hermione's eyes widened in shock at the same time as her body tightened with a rush of fresh desire in the face of his desperation. As she stared up at him, she licked her lips and felt her heart pounding against her ribs. When he opened his eyes, she gave him a shaky smile.

"I need you too…" she croaked, and it was all he needed to continue. Draco tugged the underwear down from her hips furiously, his nails raking along the skin of her thighs.

"I'll make it up to you later-" he promised with a frown as he got into position at her entrance.

" _Hurry-_ "

Hermione didn't care what he promised. She just wanted something, anything to rid her of the almost painful ache that was growing increasingly dire between her legs. He grasped her thighs, pushing them further apart as he sunk into her, and she felt her breath catch in her throat as he stretched her. She had never felt this delicious burning before. It was like every nerve in her body was alight as he filled her.

"Oh shit… _shit!_ " Draco gasped.

Everything in their past – all the history and issues between them – disappeared as she gazed up at him with such clarity of feeling that it took her breath away. Once he was fully seated inside her, he froze, dropping his forehead to the bed above her shoulder. He was panting heavily and trying hard not to move at all except for the tiny, involuntary twitching of his hips as the sensations overwhelmed him. Hermione didn't dare move in case she ruined this moment of absolute connection of their bodies. Finally, his head rose and he looked down at her with such intensity that she couldn't help biting down fiercely into her bottom lip to prevent any pitiful sounds from escaping her.

"I'm not going to last-" he stammered, looking devastated, his brows drawn together as if he were actually in pain. After a moment, his eyes lit up briefly with sudden lucidity, and then she felt him slip his hand between them. Without moving his hips at all to stroke inside her, he began to trace slow circles around her clitoris. Hermione blinked in surprise at the sensation. She felt her body pulse in response as he rubbed her decadently, and all the while she could feel him still immobile but throbbing inside her, so very eagerly.

A few times her hips arched involuntarily off the bed as the motions of his finger became too much for her, and each time he groaned and his eyes went out of focus.

Eventually he began to move. From the nearly unhinged expression on his face, she figured it was more because he couldn't hold back any longer, not because he was ready to give in and bring them to release together. He propped himself up on his forearm and moved deeply. Hermione's hips jerked uncontrollably, trying to hasten his thrusts, but his teeth were grinding together to hold on and he kept up the maddeningly slow pace. But his finger was still caressing her clit with such deliberate motions that she could feel her body tightening and careening higher and higher towards a precipice she had never experienced before.

"Hermione, love…I'm gonna come-" he grunted after a while, and her body jolted in response to his words. She felt him shudder on top of her and she watched in dizzy fascination as his face scrunched up in ecstasy as he spilled himself inside her. His movements on her clit became rough and sloppy as he lost his senses, but the extra force as well as the sight of him arching above her sent her over the edge with a shocked gasp. Hermione felt her body tense up all over, her muscles tightening as her orgasm, unexpected and hasty, rushed over her. She stopped breathing for a few moments, her eyes dotted with black. Draco was shaking and murmuring something she couldn't quite hear into her shoulder. Once she was able to start drawing wheezing breaths into her lungs again, she tilted her head to the side to hear him.

"Thank Merlin…arrh…thank you Merlin-" his words were slurred and silly, and Hermione couldn't help but chuckle. Her mind was still so dizzy. But she was pretty sure Draco was quietly celebrating the fact that he had managed to make her come as well. He had obviously expected to be the only one to lose himself so easily. They clung to each other in a tangle of sweaty limbs for a while before Draco finally let his trembling arms rest and he collapsed to one side. They were both breathing heavily; it was the only sound in the quiet room.

"Did you really-" he began to ask, propping his head up on his hand as he leant up on his elbow next to her. He was blinking blearily and his hair was a mess. She giggled, a bit dazed herself.

"Yep," she assured him with a smile. He grinned in response and bent down to kiss her slowly, gently on her lips. She shivered again.

Afterwards, his arm seemed to give out, and he slumped down onto his back. Hermione turned her head and smiled sleepily at him. With what appeared to be the last of his strength, Draco gave her a little encouraging shove and helped her wriggle up the bed. They both slipped under the sheet, and he was quick to pull her close and wrap his arms around her. Hermione willingly sunk into him, propping her chin up on his chest.

"Wow," she murmured tiredly, her eyes bright. Draco smirked, placing a tender kiss on the tip of her nose.

"Wow indeed," he replied, stroking his hand gently up and down her spine. She felt goose bumps prickle over her skin and she gave him a cheeky smile.

"Please tell me we can do that again!"

Draco groaned softly and she watched as he squirmed a bit on the bed, his hips shifting slightly.

"Little minx," he grumbled, and her smile widened, "Don't worry, Granger, we're gonna do it so many times and in so many ways you won't be able to walk straight tomorrow."

Hermione chuckled at his dark promise, but she also felt the shiver of anticipation creep up her spine.

"So what are you waiting for?" she retorted wryly. Draco's head dropped back heavily onto his pillow.

"You're going to kill me," he groaned.

Hermione didn't reply. She just pressed open-mouthed kisses onto the exposed skin of his chest.

"Thank you…for…a…lovely…date…" she murmured between kisses, and felt the vibration of Draco humming beneath her lips.

"Sorry we didn't get to finish our ice cream," he sighed, reaching down to run his hand slowly through her curls. She wanted to scold him for untangling the waves, which would only make it frizz out more, but she was too happy to bother. She probably looked thoroughly shagged already, messy hair or not.

"I rather enjoyed dessert, actually," she joked, and Draco lifted his head to peer down at her.

"I've unleashed a monster," he gasped mockingly. The next moment he had captured her wrists in his hands, and had dragged her up his body until she was sitting on his stomach. Hermione bit her lip, smiling down at him. But Draco's face was suddenly serious.

"You don't regret it?" he whispered anxiously, and his eyes were wide and afraid as he stared up at her. She remembered his earlier concerns that she would rush into this and then be upset later. She thought about it for a split second as he waited. _Did_ she regret how fast they had moved? Logically it probably had been a mistake to hurry into such a physical relationship when things had only just been sorted out between them. She had only recently even remembered that they had a past together, after all. But looking down at him, every bone in her body felt safe and alive in his arms. Despite the years that had gone by, she knew that he was still her best friend, her confidante, and now her lover. With a great swelling of confidence, she tried to match the sincerity of his gaze with her own.

"No, Draco. I could never regret this."

A beautiful smile lit up his expression then, and he grabbed her face in his hands and drew her down for a deep kiss.

Unsurprisingly it escalated quickly out of control. Hermione writhed on top of him and was pleased when she felt him start to twitch to life between her thighs. Draco bolted upright, so that she was straddling his lap, and laced his fingers through her hair. He kissed her with deliberately slow movements, exploring her mouth. Eventually he leaned back and gave her a feral, predatory smile.

"Now, I believe I promised to make it up to you…" he mumbled in a low voice, tugging at her bottom lip with his teeth.

"Already?" she asked in surprise. She had always thought, and Ron had always given her the impression, that it took longer for a male to recover before they could go again. But Draco's length was pressing insistently against her thigh now, and the grin on his face was far too smug for her liking.

"You have no idea, Granger."

Before she could respond, he was tugging at her dress, which was still askew on her small frame, and pulling it over her head. Hermione laughed as he stared at her almost bare chest with childlike glee. She carded her fingers through his hair fondly.

It wasn't long before Draco launched into action and began to show her in meticulous detail just how much he really could make it up to her. By the time she slumped onto the bed in total exhaustion, sated and numb, she was too tired and boneless to even speak. She just fell into a deep sleep, wrapped up carefully in his arms as he watched her for hours.

….

When Draco woke it was starting to get a bit lighter in his bedroom as the sun peaked through the heavy, forest-green curtains. At some point a house elf must have come in, because the smell of toast under a stasis charm hung in the air, mingling with the scent of sex and Hermione. He let out a pleased grumbling sound as he returned fully to consciousness.

Draco squirmed a bit under the sheets, shifting his hips and enjoying the lingering ache radiating from his groin. He really had put them both through some arduous tests the night before, and early this morning as well. He was surprised he was still able to move at all, frankly. With a self-satisfied grin, he wriggled forwards to cling more tightly to Hermione; she was sprawled out next to him, naked and warm. Although the night had become quite cold, it had been surprisingly hot curled up together, Draco spooned against her back between bouts of love making.

Leaning down, he pressed a few gentle, lazy kisses against the nape of her neck. He had to brush her wild mane to one side to access her skin, chuckling at how out of control it had become from the repeated abuse of writhing against the pillows beneath her over the last few hours.

This night had been completely beyond any of Draco's previous experiences with women. The last time he had been intimate with someone, he had been a petty teenager, seeking to get his rocks off and not really caring what happened afterwards. Everything had been calculating, selfish and single-minded. But with Hermione… Draco had to clench his eyes shut and take a deep breath as the fresh memories washed over him. It had been so hot; he hadn't been able to think straight. He had just lost control and followed his instincts. And she had been so responsive. She had been such a heady combination of needy and innocent that he found himself rapidly losing his mind every time she kissed him. He had finally been given the chance to do almost everything that he'd been fantasising about for the last few years since school. He had touched her all over, and enjoyed her touching him. He had parted her thighs and tasted her on his tongue. And once he had even been woken up by her kissing her way down his stomach, and then she had been licking him as she peered up with uncertain eyes.

When Hermione let out a few sleepily mumbling sounds, he knew that she was waking up too. He wrapped his arms around her, stroking his fingers over her hip and stomach and continuing to kiss her slightly salty skin.

"Mmmm…" she hummed as she tilted her head back and grinned sleepily at him.

"Good morning," he murmured into her ear. Hermione took a few moments to register what he had said before her eyes shot open and she bounced up to rest on her elbows.

"Morning?" she queried, clearly surprised. He chuckled in response.

"Yeh, look-" he pointed over her shoulder towards the window, "-it's getting light."

Her mouth dropped open as she stared at the dawn peaking in through the curtains.

"Oh my god, Harry is going never going to let me hear the end of this!"

Draco groaned and flopped back onto his pillow.

"He'll think I've kidnapped you."

"Don't be ridiculous," she snorted.

"He'll probably call in a squad of aurors!"

Hermione giggled.

"I should have sent him a patronus, or an owl or something...he might have worried about me…"

Draco grumbled and rubbed his hand over his face.

"Can we please stop talking about Harry bloody Potter? You're killing my good mood."

Hermione snorted again and leaned down to brush her lips over his chest. Draco felt himself shiver. She got under his skin far too easily.

"And why are you in such a good mood?" she teased gently. He wound one of her curls around his finger and tugged it, watching in amusement as it sprung back.

"Because last night was the best night of my entire selfish, stupid existence."

Hermione raised her brows curiously at him.

"That good?" she asked with a pleased expression spreading on her lips. Draco nodded eagerly and closed the distance between them to kiss her soundly. When he drew back he smiled cheekily at her. He loved the way the sheet was wrapped around her body in a big, messy tangle of material, revealing only glimpses of smooth skin to his lecherous eyes. He ran his hands slowly around her hips to cup her arse.

"Better," he assured her. He bit into his bottom lip and cupped her cheeks in his hands, "And you…are you…" he sighed and gave her a sheepish smirk, "I know you only agreed to one date, but will you let me keep seeing you?"

He waited with his heart pounding as she gazed down at him, her fingers tracing little spirals across his skin. But he needn't have worried so much. Almost as soon as the terrifying question was out of his mouth, she gifted him with a beautiful, open smile that lit up her face, and warmed the entire room.

"Of course," she said brightly, "Just make sure next time we actually attempt to finish our dessert first."

Draco chuckled.

"Would you like some breakfast to make up for this grave error?" he asked with mock seriousness.

"Oh yes please," she replied enthusiastically, "I'm famished!"

They started to scramble up off the bed, Hermione wrapping the sheet more tightly around herself. She looked like a Greek goddess, he thought. They both leaned over towards the tray that the house elf had left for them, and Draco cancelled the stasis charm keeping it warm. But before either of them could dig into the warm buttered toast with jams spread out across the platter, something caught his eye.

"Uh oh…bugger-" he muttered, tugging out the early morning copy of the Daily Prophet that the house elf had strategically left to one side of the butter dish. He unfolded it quickly and spread it out in front of the two of them as they propped themselves on the edge of the bed. He heard Hermione gasp in his ear as his eyes skimmed across the headline and the enormous photo covering most of the page. She let out a long groan and scrunched up the edge of the paper in one hand.

"Arrgh! That bloody woman!"

….

 **We're winding things up now, but there are still a few more complications to resolve. What did you think of their luurving? So difficult to write. Please leave many lovely reviews.**


	24. Chapter 24

**Author's Note: Getting closer to the end. A few bumps to overcome still. Your reviews for last chapter were so sweet! Hope you like this one. As always, JKR is the real deal!**

 **MAN-EATER HERMIONE GRANGER WINS HATRICK**

 **Trail of Famous Hearts Continues to Mount**

By Rita Skeeter

 _It is indeed true that notorious muggleborn Hermione Granger has had her fair share of conquests over the years, which culminated last night in a move that shocked critics of the infamously loose woman. Readers are reminded of her first remarkable act of seduction when she won the heart of beloved Bulgarian seeker Viktor Krum. Many considered this controversial because of the unfortunate detractions of her plain appearance and weak personality. Her next broken heart was, of course as you will recall, the poor and heroic Chosen One Harry Potter, whose selfless character suffered at the hands of the unfaithful and often violent tempered Miss Granger._

 _We here at the Daily Prophet were momentarily hopeful when it seemed that true love had triumphed, as the impoverished and foolhardy Ronald Weasley decided to take pity on his friend to begin a relationship many deemed suitable. However, this was not to last. Turning her back on love, Granger has decided instead to make her next big conquest; the gem in her crown of powerful and influential men. Young millionaire bachelor Draco Malfoy, whose mother bravely fought alongside our Saviour Potter in the war, has become Granger's latest victim. The two were seen out on the town last night, with the muggleborn witch pulling out all the stops to charm her way into the unsuspecting Malfoy's bed. Witnesses claimed that her methods were aggressive, and poor young Draco never stood a chance._

 _This latest blow to the Golden Trio's increasingly tarnished reputation has raised numerous questions for long-time readers of the Daily Prophet. The most important question on everyone's minds seems to be how this unattractive and shrill girl appears to have such an insidious sway over rich and successful wizards. Not for the first time, we strongly urge the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to investigate Miss Granger for the possible illegal use of love potions. For more information on Granger's past misdemeanours, see page 17…_

Draco leaned back against the pillows with a smirk, weaving his hands together behind his head. Hermione was pacing furiously across the foot of the bed, reading the article aloud. Her voice was growing increasingly heated in outrage as she absorbed the cruel words. To make matters worse, there was a large photograph blown up in extreme detail on the front cover showing them sitting in the restaurant together, smiling flirtatiously and stroking each other's hands. It wasn't a bad photo actually. He had no idea who had taken it, but they both looked very intimate and he quite liked the way she was smiling softly up at him, her gaze enraptured at something he was telling her.

"I knew I should have just squashed her under my foot while I had the chance," she growled, and Draco chuckled, remembering how she had told him all about her revenge on the unregistered animagus Skeeter back when they were in sixth year.

"Wow, you _are_ violent tempered!" he commented wryly, and Hermione quickly spun around to glare at him.

"Easy for you to joke about it! You're painted as some poor victim while I'm the ugly man-eating bitch!"

Draco shrugged casually.

"You're smart enough to have worked out by now that she's just jealous of you, right?"

Hermione let out a heavy breath and rolled her eyes.

"Well obviously. But that still doesn't make it right. I mean, _you're_ the one who was a Death Eater – no offense," she added quickly, grimacing as she spun to face him with a guilty look, but he just shrugged again. It was only the truth, "And _I'm_ the one who gets portrayed as some kind of evil hussy."

Draco smirked cheekily. He wriggled forwards on the bed - the sheet draped over the lower half of his body - until he was perched on the end. Hermione had started throwing her clothes on hastily in the middle of her furious rant. With steady hands, he reached out and grabbed onto her waist, tugging her forwards gently to stand between his legs. She complied, pouting sullenly. Draco's smirk widened as he stroked his hands soothingly up and down her sides. He tugged her even closer so that he could lean up slightly and place a soft kiss right on her swollen bottom lip.

"An evil hussy?" he repeated in a hoarse murmur, "Hmmm…I think I'd quite like to test that one."

Hermione chuckled, her tense posture relaxing somewhat as he continued to tickle her back and waist with his fingers. Her lips twitched minutely up at the sides as she tried not to smile back at him.

"You're insatiable," she muttered, running her hands through his hair. He was sure if he looked in a mirror his normally neat blonde style would be unrecognisable. It certainly felt like it was sticking wildly out in all different directions from her clenching at it frequently through night as she held onto him.

"Well what can I say, I can't get enough of you," he replied with a mischievous grin, finally drawing a reluctant half-smile from her as well. And it wasn't even really a joke. He already wanted her again, after coming so many times and in so many different ways throughout the long night. He was half hard underneath the sheet just watching her getting flustered, her hair crackling with impulsive magic. She really was sexy when she was cross.

"Stop it, you're killing my rage!" she scolded half-heartedly, her mouth still pursed in a frown.

"No, that won't do," he murmured, pulling her down to straddle his lap. She went willingly, rolling her eyes just a little bit at his persistence. But she did wrap her legs around him and link her arms behind his neck.

"Why are you so calm about his?" she whispered against his mouth, placing a couple of gentle kisses there between each word. Draco shuddered and twitched underneath her.

"None of our friends or family will believe any of that trollop. And the fact that everyone knows you're mine now…well, that's an added bonus."

He smirked against her lips before placing a few deliberate kisses down her jawline.

"Mmm.." Hermione whimpered softly as he got a bit carried away, feeling drugged on the taste of her skin. He wondered vaguely whether she would be open to continuing this little morning tryst. He was certainly ready for another round, he realised with a shift of his hips below her splayed thighs. But before he could whisper anything suggestive into her ear, his words registered somewhere in her distracted mind. Hermione gasped loudly, jerking back with wide eyes to stare at him in horror.

"Wait…Oh _no!_ " she moaned, gripping onto his shoulders, "everyone is going to see that article!"

Draco raised his brow curiously.

"Yes…so? I thought we had decided not to keep it a secret anymore."

She sighed, sliding her fingers into her already messy hair.

"Yeh, but I was going to break it to people gently. Or in other words, I was going to break it to _Ron_ gently."

Draco let out a deep breath and nodded in understanding. He cupped her face in his hands, cradling it gently.

"Damn," he muttered, resting his forehead against hers, "is he likely to cause problems?"

Hermione snorted.

"Well, he _is_ Ron Weasley. Clumsy, hot-headed tantrums are his specialty."

Draco groaned and dropped his head to her shoulder.

"I don't suppose we can have one last naughty morning of fun before the other shoe drops and the angry exes come knocking?" he asked in a muffled voice against her skin.

Hermione chuckled hoarsely. She pushed off him and jumped to her feet. Draco flopped back on the bed with a sigh.

"I'll make it up to you later," she promised, echoing his words from the night before. He tilted his head up and smiled at her.

"You'd better," he teased, before rolling off the bed with a grumble and searching for his pants and shirt. When he couldn't find them in the immediate vicinity of the bed – clearly they had been thrown somewhere much further away and in different directions – he decided to grab a clean set from his draws.

"I should probably go back home, in case Harry's worried… he would have seen that article too!"

Draco nodded, but he felt a heaviness settle over him at the thought of her leaving. He didn't want it to end. He wanted their night to keep going on forever without any interruptions from the outside world. If only they could build some kind of sanctuary together where no one and nothing else mattered but the feel of skin on skin.

"Will you come back? Later, I mean, once you've had a chance to deal with everything."

He was trying to sound casual, but he knew she picked up on the nervous tremor in his voice. Now fully dressed herself, she strode over to him quickly and linked her arms around his neck.

"Draco…I don't want to go. But I have to. The sooner I leave and sort this mess out, the sooner I can come back and we can…" she smiled playfully, "…keep making up for lost time."

Draco couldn't help the childlike grin that spread across his face, as if Christmas had been brought forward by several months.

"Tonight?" he asked quietly, pleadingly. She smiled in response and nodded. Hermione then leaned up on her toes and placed a slow, sensual kiss on his lips. It was a kiss full of promises and yearning, as if it was killing her not to keep going.

"Tonight," she echoed softly, backing away towards the door. Before she left the room she turned back to look at him with a coy smile.

"Draco…last night…" she considered her words carefully and bit her lip. Draco waited patiently for her to continue, "I'll never forget it."

Draco chuckled at her cheeky, audacious choice of words. But before he could reply she was gone. And all he was left with was her intoxicating scent clinging to every part of the room, and the memories of the best damn night of his life.

….

Draco thought it best to get some real sustenance if they were going to keep going at this rate of mindless physical obsession. He had a cool shower to try and clear his head of the vivid sensory experience, still feeling her all around him even though she had left the manor.

His mother was probably still having breakfast downstairs in the dining room, so he lazily wandered his way down there. Sure enough, she was sitting at the table, an elf arranging food in meticulous little plates around her. Miffy left with a squeak and a pop, and Narcissa raised her head as she saw her son enter the room.

"Draco! Darling, I didn't think you'd be joining me for breakfast."

He smiled tiredly at his mother, slumping down into the seat next to her.

"I'm famished."

"I'm not surprised. Is there anything you'd care to share with me, dear?"

Draco narrowed his eyes at his mother, leaning forwards in his seat.

"You saw the article," he guessed, and Narcissa smiled softly.

"Miss Skeeter showcased her usual flair for the dramatics."

Draco groaned and started shovelling eggs and bacon onto his plate. He wanted to eat lots of energy foods to regain his strength for tonight.

"Hermione was royally pissed off."

His mother grimaced.

"Language, dear."

"She was rather cranky," he corrected himself with a patronising smile, and Narcissa nodded in approval.

"I'm not surprised. The article was particularly cruel to her."

"Rita Skeeter has a vendetta against her, because she's the one who reported her as being an unregistered animagus a couple of years ago."

Narcissa's eyes widened.

"Really? How did she find out?"

"She's the brightest witch of our age, mother," he responded with an affectionate smirk. Hermione had figured out all _his_ secrets, after all. He didn't think anything could stop her when she put her mind to something.

"Indeed," his mother commented dryly, "So you took her to dinner then? I recognised the restaurant."

"Yep!"

"Does this mean you're together now?"

Draco chuckled and started to dig into his eggs. They were cooked just the way he liked them.

"Can we _not_ do the interrogation now, mother?"

His mother pursed her lips, sipping daintily on her tea as she scrutinised him.

"Well, how about you invite her to dinner here one night so I don't have to quiz you myself."

Draco shook his head indulgently.

"Fine, but _don't_ go all protective psycho on her, and scare her off!"

Narcissa smiled softly.

"I would _never_ do that. Now, eat your breakfast, darling. You look like you're wasting away."

And for the first time in years, Draco did so with gusto. His appetite had returned with ferocious force. There was finally a damn good reason to start living again.

….

In London, however, when Hermione appeared in the fireplace, she walked straight into a scene of chaos. It hadn't taken Ron very long to pick up on the new headline story in the Daily Prophet and, without stopping to think, he had stormed over to their apartment in a rage. The moment she stepped out of the fire and the flames flickered down to nothing, she could hear raised voices in the kitchen.

"Has she been imperiused or something?"

"No Ron-"

"She can't be serious! There's no way Hermione would do something so stupid."

"Ron, just listen to me-"

"He's a filthy fucking ferret, Harry!"

She blinked in surprise as George peered his head out from the kitchen. He looked like the cat that ate the canary; there was a wide grin on his face, bigger than she had seen in many months. He saw her and his smile widened. George raised a finger to his lips and gestured for her to come closer.

"Ron, you're being ridiculous! You don't even know Draco!"

" _Draco?_ " the ginger boy spat back at him, "I suppose you're best mates with him now too, is that it?"

Harry just sighed and pressed his fingers to his forehead. Hermione chose that moment to clear her throat, drawing attention to herself. George was practically bouncing up and down next to her, waiting to see the coming confrontation. But she had other ideas. She wanted to stay calm, and not rise to Ron's taunts, or things would just get out of hand.

"Hermione!" he spluttered when he noticed her. His face was a distinctly unpleasant shade of beetroot that clashed with his orange hair. Harry, just behind his shoulder, gave her a brief sympathetic smile and a small thumbs up.

"Good morning," she commented lightly, moving past both boys to switch on the kettle. She started to make herself a cup of tea, more to keep her hands busy than because she felt like one.

"Morning Mione," Harry replied, and George just giggled and waved. Ron actually stamped his foot in protest, like a child having a tantrum.

"Please tell me this isn't true! That Skeeter made up the whole thing to smear you in the paper."

Hermione sighed, pouring boiling water slowly into the cup and watching the tealeaves dance indolently around in it.

"It's true. We've started dating."

Ron's mouth gaped open.

"Have you lost your mind?"

"Of course not," she responded coolly, stirring the tea carefully.

"Don't you remember the horrible names he used to call you?"

Hermione pursed her lips, taking her first tentative sip of the scalding tea.

"That was years ago. He was just a child then."

Ron didn't seem to know how to argue with that, so he just flushed a bit and moved on.

"He's a death eater."

"He _was_ a death eater, and not through any choice of his own."

Ron almost spat, his scowl darkening.

"So he says!" he blurted, "I don't trust him."

Harry cleared his throat a little and looked sideways at his best friend.

"You know how much I used to hate Malfoy, Ron, but even I've admitted he's different. He saved Mione's life."

Ron scoffed.

"How do we know he isn't just faking it so that he can manipulate her? Win her trust and then publically humiliate her?"

"Because I was friends with him for months at school, Ron! I _know_ him," she replied in an even voice. Ron seemed to choke and turned redder, almost crimson.

"Months? What the hell?"

She took a deep breath to compose herself a little, knowing she couldn't let herself get angry.

"Well to cut a long story short, we were partnered for Arithmancy in sixth year, and we just started getting along. I noticed that he was upset about something, so I offered my help, and he took it. We became sort of friends and allies all year, I guess, helping each other out…"

"Why the fuck didn't you tell us?" he growled, and Hermione winced. He wasn't the sort of person who normally swore – Molly was a strict mother.

"Would you have liked it?"

"Of course not! I would have told you to stay the hell away from him!"

"Which is exactly why I said nothing."

Ron just stared at her in disbelief.

"I can't believe you're just sitting there admitting that you used to be friends with the slimy, evil death eater. And now you want to go out with him? Do you want him to kill Harry in his sleep? Huh?"

Okay, that one stung, she thought. Hermione couldn't help getting just a little bit cross.

"Ron Weasley! I'm the smartest witch of my age, and Harry is like a brother to me. Do you honestly not trust me to be absolutely certain he was safe before I got into all this? Draco saved my life! He abandoned his childhood prejudices and overcame so much to get here."

"Yeh and he's a millionaire! I bet that sweetens the deal for you. Maybe Skeeter was right about that!" Ron seemed to lose control, his face contorted with jealousy. He strode towards the wall, throwing his fist into it. Hermione was really glad then that she'd left out the part about the memory charm. That wouldn't have gone down well, clearly.

"Ron!" Harry shouted in horror, "Just calm down, mate. This is Hermione you're talking about; she's ten times more responsible than both of us put together. So that's good enough for me! And anyway, Draco would never do anything to hurt her."

Ron's eyes shot to his friend, and Hermione took a deep breath, cursing Harry's lack of forethought.

"Why not? Why would you say that? They've only gone on one date!"

Harry blanched, realising his error.

"Uh…I dunno…I guess I just thought he wouldn't harm her coz they used to be friends?" he stammered, but Ron could see through the lie clearly.

"Hermione," he turned to her with wild, angry eyes, " _Why wouldn't Malfoy hurt you?_ "

"Because he's been in love with me for five years," she repeated in an admirably calm voice. There wasn't even a tremor in her tone as she said it. It was true, and she was ready for everyone to know. Just as Draco had said he liked the idea of the world knowing she was his, she wanted to be open about it as well.

"Oh bloody hell," Ron said in a horrified voice, "the stupid git just said that to get into your pants, didn't he?"

Hermione snorted, actually laughing at the comment. She gave Ron a cold look.

"Don't be stupid. He didn't need to say anything to get into my pants. I was quite willing to allow that all by myself."

This time Ron turned white. The blush faded and instead became a ghostly pallor that made him look quite sick. Hermione felt a small flash of guilt. She probably shouldn't have rubbed that in Ron's face. But it wasn't like he hadn't been flaunting all his numerous girlfriends in front of her since they broke up. It was petty, but she felt justified in getting a small measure of revenge.

"What's happened to you?" Ron spat in disgust, looking down at her with trembling hands clenched at his sides, "You're becoming exactly what Rita Skeeter accused you of. A conniving hussy."

Hermione's mouth dropped open at the nasty comment. Even George had stopped smiling behind him. She didn't want to imagine that Ron could still be jealous after all these months apart, but his cruel words told a different story. Maybe he was still recovering after they split up. He had always been more invested in the relationship than she had been. Now of course, she realised that this was because she had been unknowingly pining away for someone else she couldn't remember. And now she couldn't imagine being with any other man but Draco. But was it possible that _he_ was still hurt by their break up?

"I think you should probably leave," Hermione's head darted to the side and she stared in surprise at Harry. His expression was worryingly icy. She hadn't seen him look so angry in years, "Just go home and cool down for a while until you can remember that Hermione is our friend. And she deserves better than this."

Hermione felt a warm little flutter in her stomach at the way Harry stood up for her. It was…nice that he cared so much. And that he had her back. It was at this moment that George finally stepped forwards to get involved, showing his impeccable skill for timing as always.

"Come on, ickle Ronnikins. Let's get you home before you shove your entire foot in your mouth and not just a few toes."

Ron glared at the other boys for a few seconds,

"So you're both taking her side?"

Harry sighed, slumping against the counter as if he really was unwilling to fight too hard over this. She didn't blame him.

"There are no sides, Ron. There's just the right thing to do. You'll see that once you calm down."

Ron's glare lost some of its intensity and he nodded curtly.

"Fine. Whatever. I'll see you at work next week, Harry."

He didn't even look at her again, let alone say goodbye. And then George practically frog marched him from the room. Harry and Hermione both waited and listened for the whooshing sound of the fireplace before they each took in a deep breath of relief.

"Thank you," she murmured quietly, looking up at Harry from beneath her lashes.

"Don't think that you're out of the woods yet, Mione!" he joked mildly, letting a soft smile tease his lips.

"What?" she asked with a laugh.

"When you didn't come home last night we were so worried about you. Well, George wasn't, to be honest. In fact, I'm pretty sure I owe him ten galleons now. He bet me that you were 'doing the nasty', as he called it, with Draco."

Hermione blushed, biting into her bottom lip and shifting nervously back and forth on her feet.

"I'm sorry, Harry. Really, I am. We just totally lost track of time, and I should have let you know I was okay."

Harry shook his head in bemusement, before a sly smile spread across his face.

"Wow. So your date went really well then, huh?"

Hermione let he lips stretch into an open, smug smile.

" _Really really_ well," she assured him with a cheeky quirk of her eyebrows. Harry groaned and draped an arm over her shoulder.

"Eurgh…too much information!"

"I didn't actually say anything," she argued with a laugh. But Harry just shook his head, his face screwed up in an exaggerated expression of pain.

"Yeh, but I still have the mental pictures."

Hermione giggled freely, pushing him off her and making her way towards the bathroom at a slow pace.

"That's because you're a perv," she called back over her shoulder

"Am not!"

"I'm going to have a shower!" she yelled out, and Harry snorted from somewhere behind her, still in the kitchen.

"Good! You stink like a 500 galleon bottle of men's cologne!"

Hermione laughed loudly as she made her way into the small bathroom. Her body was aching and tired from overuse, and she was keen to get under the hot steamy spray and soothe her exhausted muscles. Draco had really pushed her to the limits of her physical endurance last night - not that she was complaining - and she wanted to completely refresh herself for later that evening. She was planning to lose track of time all over again.

As she lifted her head to feel the hot water drum down onto her face, Hermione actually let her mind turn back to the night before. She moaned softly thinking about Draco's hands on her body, stroking her desperately with his fingers while she could feel him throbbing so hard inside her; the look on his face urgent and slightly unstable as he tried not to come. Her body tingled all over from the memory.

But there were other things on her mind as well. Like their easy conversation at the restaurant. Or the playful banter that the years of separation hadn't dulled at all. It was like no time had passed between them, and no spells had gotten in their way. He still made her laugh. He still challenged her, and excited her, and most importantly he understood who she was and accepted her. There were too many people she knew who saw her bossiness and her intelligence as detractions from her overall personality. But he loved those things about her. He had held onto the memories of their friendship like cherished trophies of a time when he was happy. She knew that Draco had never really had other friends like her; he certainly didn't always know how friendship worked. But there was something thrilling that drew her to him because of this; there was an intimate, private bond between them that neither of them shared with anyone else. A safe little bubble where they weren't judged and they weren't criticised for being different to other people. They made each other better versions of themselves.

Hermione scrubbed unconsciously at the shampoo in her hair, not really paying attention to what she was doing. She tried to imagine her life with Draco. The very idea made a silly smile stretch, unbidden, across her face. She rinsed out the shampoo, scrubbing vigorously at her roots as her body felt electrified by excitement.

She had been falling in love with him at school. But those feeling felt juvenile and superficial compared to the blooming of affection and hope in her chest now. She was older, more mature and hardened by war and adversity. And she knew without a doubt that she wanted Draco Malfoy. Her anger at him when she woke with her memories returned had been intense. Only a deep love could spawn such a deep pain of betrayal and hatred. The extremes of emotion were too raw. If she hadn't cared about him as much as she did, she wouldn't have been so upset by his actions. But she had been impetuous and hot-headed. Her parents had given her a good example of the kind of compassion and forgiveness needed to move forwards when pain was caused out of a place of love.

And she loved Draco Malfoy.

Hermione felt a slight shiver as she realised the water was starting to run cold. She had been standing there for so long she hadn't even noticed the hot water fading. With a flick of her hand and a pulse of wandless magic, it turned hot again, smarting against her skin. Hermione leaned her head back against the tiles, letting the burning spray wash the sticky sweat from last night away. Her cheeks began to sting from grinning so much, but she just closed her eyes and enjoyed the moment. She couldn't wait to get back to see him again.

….

It was like something had snapped in Draco's mind. He couldn't seem to take his hands off her. Ever since that first time of being embedded so tightly inside her the previous evening, he had tried to keep touching her somehow every second they were together. It was as if he thought he'd die if they didn't have skin to skin contact at all times. It didn't help that his mind kept throwing up memories of waking up in the middle of the night afterwards to feel her tentatively licking his already rock hard erection, before she peeked up at him with a nervous blush and stammered, _"you might need to tell me how to do this."_

Draco had to bite his tongue at the memory of her hesitant exploration, guided by his croaky and stammered instructions. It had been so innocent and so sexy. He had barely lasted a few minutes before she swallowed his seed with a curious murmur.

But tonight he was after something different. The moment she had appeared in the guest fireplace, he had been waiting. As Hermione stepped out with a beaming smile, brushing soot off her casual muggle clothes, he was pulling her towards him and pressing her against the nearest wall. But instead of kissing her senseless like certain parts of his anatomy wanted, he leaned in to slowly place a gentle, almost chaste kiss on her lips. It was a kiss that promised so much more.

He had been thinking about her non-stop all day. He had been craving her, not just physically, but being around her again and simply being allowed to revel in having her back and showing her how much he cared.

Draco slowly parted his lips, his heart thudding like a beast in his chest that had been awoken after a long sleep. He gently sucked on her bottom lip, drawing it in between both of his before pulling away softly. He leaned his head back and stared at her, licking the taste of her off his lips. He watched as her eyes slowly blinked open again, returning his gaze with a foggy, longing one of her own. Hermione took in a deep, trembling breath and let it out, the air tickling his nose.

"Mmmm…" she mumbled, like a cat purring in the sunshine, and her lips stretched into another smile. Draco's heart clenched painfully in his chest, worried that he would give away his sublime joy and just start skipping and dancing in circles around her, yelling his victory at the top of his voice. Instead, he connected their lips again in a slow, elegant dance. He wanted to pour all his feelings into the kiss, and show her exactly what it meant to him. His lips and tongue treasured every inch and morsel they found as he kissed her thoroughly, carefully. His hands came up to tangle in her curls and cradle her head as he worshipped her mouth.

Eventually he pulled away again to watch her. She looked half-drunk with pleasure at the soul-searing kiss, and he knew he needed more. Draco reached down and clasped her hand, backing away towards the door and tugging her to get her to come with him. She meekly followed as they made their way down the hallway. He could feel her fingers trembling as they linked through his, and he squeezed them in reassurance.

"Was everything okay when you got home?" he asked in a croaky voice, trying to calm himself down and control the urge to just press her into the wall right there.

"Uhuh," she murmured back distractedly, "Ron got mad, said some nasty things. But nothing I wasn't expecting from him."

Draco frowned, wishing he could hex the ginger weasel.

"I'm sorry," he said in a low voice as they finally reached his bedroom.

"Don't be," she replied quickly, "You never have to be sorry about _this_ ," she emphasized the last word by squeezing his hand in return, and he felt a flickering of happiness spark up again in his chest.

When they had made it inside his room, he deliberately closed and locked the door. There were automatic, permanent silencing charms on it, so he didn't need to worry about anyone hearing them. Which was good, because he planned to make Hermione scream his name before the night was over.

The moment he turned around, she was on him again. She kissed him furiously, clearly sharing the same impatient urges as him. Was it possible she had missed him just as much all day? He didn't think that was likely; he had felt like he'd had a limb amputated when she left earlier.

Draco let the kiss continue passionately for a moment before he reigned in his desires. He was determined to get what he wanted tonight, and he didn't want to be distracted by the overwhelming lust commanding him to just take her. He ignored the parts of his body that were arguing that she clearly wanted it just as much as him, so why not just have her here right up against the door?

Draco parted their lips and took a few steadying breaths. He cupped her face again in his hands and kissed her slowly once more, loving the way her body squirmed against his and she whimpered. He swallowed all the little sounds she made, his eyes rolling back into his head.

Draco's stubborn, methodical plan went swiftly into action without a hitch. And judging by the sounds she was making, Hermione certainly wasn't opposed to the new tone either. He wanted to make love to her. Last night had been amazing, but tonight he wanted something he had never done before. He had never relished or wallowed in sex before, never as a way of connecting two people so closely. It had always been about that need, about chasing that goal of ultimate satisfaction. But this… this was unlike anything he could have anticipated.

He stripped Hermione of her clothes one piece at a time and adored every single inch of her body. He took his time winding her higher and higher, pressing as much skin to each other as possible. Every instinct he felt was fulfilled. He froze more than once to simply stare down at her and just bask in the fact that she was _here,_ and that he wasn't dreaming this. And when he finally entered her, he groaned at the feeling of being so close to her and stopped moving altogether for far too long to make his unsatisfied body very happy with him.

Draco frowned and kissed away a wet trickle that escaped her eyes, propping himself on his elbows and trying not to twitch his hips forwards inside her.

"What's wrong?" he murmured nervously, his heart racing. But she just smiled, her lips stretching slowly into a lazy grin as she hastily wiped away each tear.

"Nothing," she whispered, her voice cracking, "I just…Draco…I'm…I…"

She tried to cover her face, embarrassed, with her hands. But he quickly reached up and tugged them away, his brows drawn together worriedly, afraid he had done something wrong, or hurt her in some way.

"Hermione, what is it? Please…"

She took a deep breath and calmed down a bit, returning his gaze evenly at last.

"I love you."

Draco felt his stomach clench and drop right out of him. The world sort of spun around him in a slow daze, before he realised that he needed to breathe. He allowed a few gasps of air in before he leaned his forehead down to rest against hers. He was still holding himself immobile inside her, but the ache radiating from his groin was becoming almost painful.

"What?" he mumbled against her cheek, the only thing he seemed capable of saying.

"I've fallen in love with you all over again so quickly… my heart remembered what my mind had forgotten," she said very quickly, in one long breathy sentence. Then her hips jerked up slightly and he groaned. He half-collapsed on top of her, before catching himself on his arms.

"Oh fuck," he swore, drawing out and slamming himself inside her hard, just once. Hermione groaned.

"Draco, please…more…"

His head shot up to stare at her in awe as the feelings and thoughts swirling inside him began to crystallise into a moment of beautiful clarity.

"I love you so much, Hermione," he muttered through teeth that were grinding together as he began to move. He tried desperately to keep the slow pace he had wanted, but compensated by making sure every thrust was hard and deep, hitting that spot inside her that made her cry out.

"Say it again," he demanded selfishly, keeping up the same maddening pace and kissing her skin anywhere he could reach; down her jaw, along her neck, the tops of her breasts, behind her ear.

"I love you, Draco…I love-" her breath hitched as her body started to clench around him. This time she didn't need any help getting there, and a wave of male pride washed over him; he had never felt like more of a man than in this moment as Hermione called out his name. Her head was thrown back, exposing the slender column of her neck as she tightened like a vice around him. Draco panted and, without speeding up at all, felt himself clench as heat flared up his spine and he spilled himself inside her. It seemed to last forever.

"Say it again," he repeated drowsily against her skin as they both wound down, drinking in as much air as possible. He distantly heard her giggle, feeling her body shiver underneath him from the movement.

"I love you, you big git," she said with a chuckle, running her hands through his hair as she held him close to her breast.

"Thank Merlin," he groaned, causing her to chuckle again. She seemed unable to stop giggling.

"Wow! I mean… _wow!_ I thought we were good at this last night. But that was…I don't even know what to call that. There isn't a strong enough word for it."

Draco smiled triumphantly and propped his chin up sleepily to look down at her face. She was grinning too.

"It was fucking fantastic, Granger," he agreed. Her eyes were focused on the ceiling above them, but eventually they lowered to return his satisfied stare.

"You were…so… focused," she murmured with a slow smile. Draco nodded, leaving a soft trail of kisses across her collarbone and down over the swell of her breasts.

"I wanted to make love to you," he admitted shyly, not even sure if he had done it right, "But I didn't realise that you would…say it too. Or feel it."

Hermione ran a hand over his hairline, he fingernails tracing a soft pattern across the line of his forehead.

"I've felt it for five years," she replied in such a quiet voice that he could only just hear her, "I just didn't realise it for most of that time. But it was always there, somewhere in the back of my mind. That's why I was always too nervous to come over and talk to you when Harry would chat with you at ministry events and at your trial…there was something about you that bothered me. I was scared of you, and how I felt so unsettled around you."

Draco's gut clenched in a visceral mix of emotions. He pushed himself up to be at eye level with her. He kissed her softly again, running his thumb along her bottom lip when they parted.

"I'm so sorry to have ever caused you pain," he mumbled, his face falling sadly as his guilt seemed to take over the other emotions. Hermione bit her lip in a familiar expression; her endless compassion shone through even now.

"I'm sorry that you had to. I wish we never missed out on all that time."

Draco pushed away the shame of his past, letting a light smirk grace his lips as he rubbed his nose along hers and tugged her leg up to wrap around his waist.

"Enough regret for now…" he croaked against her lips, "…didn't you say something about making it up to me?"

Hermione giggled, her body squirming from renewed desire as he rubbed himself against her gently.

"I did, didn't I?" she asked in a playful whisper, drawing him down for a deep kiss full of meaning. Draco grinned and then proceeded to take every inch of her body all over again. And this time she had left a bashful, somewhat cheeky note for Harry promising she wouldn't be back for a very long time. And he planned to make the most of every second.

….

 **Thanks for reading! Probably only one more chapter to go. We'll see what happens. Please leave your sweet reviews. I'm not sure how exactly I want to finish this one. I'm debating with myself about it.**


	25. Chapter 25

**Author's Note: Okay faithful readers – this really is the last chapter! Despite some requests to just keep going forever, I do have to wrap it up or I fear we will all get bored eventually. Thank you so much for your undying support and beautiful words. I am so pleased you enjoyed this one. I had so much fun writing it. As always, JKR is our Chosen One!**

There were reports throughout the wizarding world that Rita Skeeter had been put on the backbench at the Daily Prophet. Rumours had been circulating non-stop for a week now that she had been demoted in disgrace, and yet for once no one seemed to know the particulars. Which was odd, because gossip was rampant in this tight-knight magical community, but not one person knew what happened to the formerly popular, usually unethical journalist. No one except Narcissa Malfoy, that is.

It would come as no surprise to those who were well acquainted with the Malfoy matriarch, that she was relentless in the protection of her family.

And Hermione Granger was family.

She had never expected to be so closely connected with this fiery muggleborn girl; she could never have imagined Draco when he was younger ending up so desperately in love with a girl like this. But, although surprised, she was most certainly pleased with the outcome. Even though they had shared only a couple of short conversations together, and one fairly awkward dinner, she had come to rather admire the girl. Too many pureblood girls that Draco had befriended as a youth had been shallow and altogether too fake in their interest in her son. But Hermione… now she was a real firecracker. She was independent, clever, humble, natural and compassionate. She reminded Narcissa strongly of her own sister Andromeda when she had been younger; determined to go after what she wanted no matter how many people criticised her or the trouble she created. She pursued the _right_ path doggedly, and it was most fortunate indeed that in this case, that path led straight to her son Draco.

She hadn't seen her son this happy in a very long time. In fact, she had never seen him like this. He was lighter and more serious all at once. He could barely contain his joy every moment of the day. He was a man now. And this was only after a week or so of them reconnecting. Now she knew how he had managed to survive all the horrors going on during his sixth year at Hogwarts. If Hermione was by his side, he could tackle anything.

Which is why Narcissa had stepped in to defend the newest addition to her family. It hadn't even taken much effort on her part; the Malfoy name was still powerful even after Lucius's death. All it took was a sly meeting with the editor of the Daily Prophet – an old friend of the family. And a few thousand galleons to sweeten the deal. But Rita Skeeter was where she belonged now; writing a stale old column in some backwater page that no one noticed.

Narcissa smiled secretly to herself as she sipped her wine, looking down on the extensive gardens at Malfoy manor with pride. Just beyond the hydrangeas she could see Hermione and Draco walking together across the lawns. They were holding hands and beaming from ear to ear as they chatted comfortably with each other. She chuckled wryly as she saw her son slip his hand down and around her waist, as Hermione promptly batted it away. He whispered something into her hair and she blushed, pushing him off playfully. This soon descended into Draco chasing her down and picking her up lightly off the ground as if she weighed nothing. He spun around as she laughed uproariously, and Narcissa felt her heart clench slightly.

She had never had this kind of easy friendship with Lucius. The sight of such unadulterated love and exultation took her breath away. She was so happy for her son. He deserved to be with someone who was his equal; someone who respected him and treated him tenderly, but who wasn't afraid to speak her mind and boss him around a bit.

She shook her head fondly as she remembered a moment at dinner a few days ago. Her house elf Miffy had been serving them, making her way around the table. There had been a slightly awkward silence as the old elf refilled their wine glasses. And when she had finished with Hermione's, the girl had given the elf a warm, kindly smile.

" _Thank you very much! The food is so delicious, you're a very talented chef."_

Miffy had almost dropped the decanter. The poor little thing had been so shocked she had gone white. She had whimpered for a few seconds before vanishing from the room with a frightened pop.

Draco had thought it was terribly funny, of course. He had burst into laughter and reached over to grasp Miss Granger's hand affectionately. Narcissa wasn't sure why the girl felt it necessary to thank and be so nice to a house elf, but it was clearly one of those traits that Draco adored about her.

Narcissa reached up to lay her hand against the frosting glass of the window. She allowed her lips to stretch into a stiff grin that transformed her normally stoic features. She had smiled more in the past week than she had in many year; just like Draco.

Yes, Hermione was family now. Lucius would probably be spinning in his grave at the idea of a muggleborn possibly becoming mistress of Malfoy manor someday. But Narcissa knew better now. And she was determined to protect her little family now, even if it meant bribing and manipulating every single person who threatened them.

….

 **One Year later**

Hermione was huffing out a frustrated breath as she looked at herself critically in the floor length mirror. She had never liked this shade of pale yellow, but Ginny had insisted that it looked lovely on her. Personally, she thought she looked like an overripe banana. Hermione winced as the seamstress pricked her with a needle as she measure the waist for re-adjustments. She shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. They had been here for hours trying on different colours and styles, and it was beginning to grate on her nerves.

Molly was fussing about like a hen on steroids, Ginny was infuriatingly happy, Luna was warding off gnargles on the clothes around her, and Katie Bell– George's new girlfriend – was so shy she kept stammering her agreement to any and all suggestions made.

Maybe Draco was rubbing off on her, Hermione thought with a self-deprecating scowl. She was clearly more stubborn and sarcastic than ever before. Perhaps a bit of the Slytherin had rubbed off on her after all this time.

That brought a slight smile to her face. Hermione watched her smug expression thoughtfully in the mirror for a moment, trying to ignore the yards of sickly yellow material draped around her. It was certainly true that she felt like a different person these days. She could be rude, abrasive, cunning and was most definitely ambitious. And in turn, Draco was more compassionate, lighter and hard working, putting in effort to earn his goals, not just using his money and power. But in a way they balanced each other.

"So what do you think?" Ginny asked with a glowing smile. Hermione only just managed to resist the urge to roll her eyes. If she had to go into one more dress store she was going to scream.

"It's perfect," she gushed in an attempt to appease the two fanatical Weasley women. Maybe she could end this nightmarish shopping trip early, "I love the colour, it's so bright and cheerful."

This was exactly what Ginny wanted to hear. The younger girl squealed and bounced up and down on her feet in excitement. She and Harry had decided that they wanted a small, bubbly wedding ceremony that revelled in the joy of being alive that they all needed in the years after the war. Hermione was so happy for them, but she would have been a lot happier if she didn't have to take part in every tiny, tedious detail of the preparations.

She had just finished another year of courses at the university. She was tired, and stressed, and her mind kept wandering back to the night before when her and Draco had celebrated the end of a particularly difficult week of exams.

It had been vigorous and so passionate she still blushed when she thought of it. After her paper had finished, she had been so eager to get back to their London townhouse where she lived with him now. George had moved in with Harry to be closer to the shop at Diagon Alley, and she had moved into Draco's beautiful Georgian house that she had fallen in love with the moment he had whisked her back there after a date to show her around.

One of the best things about her new home was the enormous marble bathtub in the ensuite. Last night Draco had drawn her a hot bath filled to the brim with scented lotions and bubbles and she had soaked there for a whole hour, only interrupted by the gentle popping in and out of their new, _paid_ house elf who brought her a big plate of cookies and some hot chocolate. She smiled just remembering it. It had really taken the edge off her exam stress.

When she had emerged from the bathroom, Draco had been there eager to strip the towel from her slightly damp body and press her into the bed. They had made love more than once. And each time Draco didn't seem to be able to get enough of her. He had been voracious. She supposed that she had probably been ignoring him too much these last couple of weeks while studying. But he had certainly made up for lost time. He had been firm but tender and so very thorough. Hermione's toes curled up just thinking about it.

"Hello! Earth to Hermione!" Her head snapped towards the voice and saw Ginny looking at her with a knowing smirk on her face.

"Come back from daydream land and your blond lover, please!"

Hermione chuckled, her cheeks reddening in embarrassment.

"Sorry," she murmured, pleased that the other ladies were in the change rooms and not within earshot.

"Alright, spit it out. What did your gorgeous Slytherin do this time?"

Hermione smiled wryly and shrugged her shoulders.

"Don't ask," she warned, making Ginny giggle.

"Fine! I suppose I'd only get jealous of your millionaire sex-god boyfriend!"

"Yes you would."

"Spoilsport."

She shook her head with an indulgent smile and tugged at the lining of the dress around her neck. It was so itchy. She saw Ginny pass a critical eye over her and frown.

"The dress is hideous, isn't it?"

Hermione gave a little thoughtful pout. She looked down at the dress and considered how she should answer. Finally she looked up at Ginny with a sheepish smile.

"If I say yes, will you keep making me try more on?"

Ginny burst into raucous laughter. The other ladies popped their heads out to see what was going on. Luna started laughing too, although clearly didn't know what about. Molly just frowned, as if they might insult the dresses by making too much noise.

"Alright!" Ginny yelled, drawing the attention of the shop assistants, "No more dresses! Let's all go to the Leaky Cauldron for lunch!"

Katie looked relieved, Molly slightly put out, and Luna was still laughing at nothing. Hermione let out a breath and giggled too.

"If you insist!"

The ladies made their way to the pub, and were all thrilled to see that the men had also finished up early and were slowly making their way through a few pints of mead. They seemed equally tired and sick of the whole wedding shopping venture. Hermione embraced Arthur warmly, kissed Harry and George each on the cheek and then gave Ron an awkward smile and wave. As always, he turned beet red when he saw her. But things were starting to mellow between them again. He had fought his way through a stumbled apology a couple of months ago, having missed his friend dearly. And while they struggled to hang out like they used to, at least they were cordial to each other now. Draco despised him. But then, he usually hated any man who got too close to her. He was like a child with a toy, and it made Hermione laugh. She teased him about his jealous nature constantly, much to his chagrin.

"How goes the new home?" Harry asked her quietly as they separated from the pack and found their way to the bar.

"Why? Missing me already?" she replied with a warm smile.

"Every day!" he responded sincerely.

"Oh Harry, I miss you too. Not all the time, but often."

Harry laughed. It was clear that he agreed with her on that point. Moments like last night in bed with Draco, squirming as he kissed his way down her stomach and spread her legs with a covetous gleam in his eye, she was very glad to have moved to the new townhouse. For too many months they had suffered the embarrassment of forgetting silencing charms, and Harry's accusing glare the next morning at breakfast. He really didn't want to hear his best friend – who was like a sister to him – in the throes of passion with his one time childhood nemesis. Not that he and Draco were still unfriendly; in fact they were growing quite a warm relationship between them, based on a mutual love of the curly haired Gryffindor girl. But still, there were limits to what he could tolerate.

"How was the dress fitting?"

"Like a bad dream," Hermione joked in response, and Harry chuckled and gave her shoulder a little shove.

"Don't be sulky," he reprimanded, but she just shook her head with a teasing smile.

"If I have to try on one more uncomfortable, garish coloured dress I think I might kill your bride!"

Harry scoffed, giving the star-shocked bartender a friendly smile as he passed over their drinks. Everyone treated him with a kind of terrified awe these days. It was like he was some kind of mythic knight in shining armour. He found it very embarrassing, but usually took it in his stride and just acted amiably towards everyone. She admired his patience.

"You sound more and more like him every day," he commented lightly. Hermione feigned ignorance, turning her wide, blinking eyes on him without a hint of deceit.

"Who?"

"Draco, of course."

Hermione allowed her eyes to widen slightly.

"Do I?" she questioned dumbly, even though she had just thought the exact same thing less than half an hour ago.

"Don't play Slytherin with me!" Harry scolded her with a playful frown, "You know exactly what I mean! He's a bad influence on you."

Hermione shot him a mischievous smirk.

"He would be so pleased if he heard you say that."

"I bet," Harry remarked drily. They each took a couple of sips of their drinks, watching fondly over at the excited banter going on between the Weasleys. This wedding would really lift their family's spirits. Hermione was glad, "I'm surprised he doesn't simply keep you tied up in his evil dungeon."

She grinned and pinched him playfully on the arm.

"Only sometimes."

Harry's face screwed up in disgust. She enjoyed shocking him with the occasional comment about Draco. With each horrified reaction she only gained more confidence. It tickled her to see him go almost green with discomfort. Unfortunately George was far better at teasing this reaction out of him than she could ever accomplish.

"Eugh…you're so mean."

"And you're so gullible!"

Harry shook his head and drained the last drops from his glass. He placed it back down on the counter with another kindly, appreciative smile at the bartender.

"Interested in having dinner with us tonight?"

Hermione turned to observe her friend. She caught him staring over at Ginny, his gaze warm and filled with love. It made her smile.

"Sure, what did you have in mind?"

Harry shrugged, scuffing his feet on the floor.

"We could just grab some takeaway. My stomach is still recovering from the last fancy restaurant Draco took us to."

Hermione laughed. It was true that Draco was persistent in taking the four of them out to increasingly extravagant places to eat. He always paid for the meal, and he always had fantastic suggestions for what to order. It had become a sort of game between them, a joke that they shared. The photographers at the Daily Prophet usually had a field day. They had even started a column in the society section of the wining and dining experiences of the ex-Death Eater and the Boy-Who-Lived. It had become a popular segment for readers.

"Some Chinese sounds good. We can grab it from the takeaway place near us. Draco and I love their crispy lemon duck! And I've been teaching him to use chopsticks."

"Now that I'll pay to see!"

"He's adorably clumsy," she agreed with a wistful smile. " _So…_ do you and Ginny want to come to our place at around six?"

Harry nodded eagerly.

"Perfect! No paparazzi there, right?"

Hermione chuckled.

"No, I doubt there will be photographers at our little corner takeaway."

"Good. The papers have been particularly obsessed with me this week."

Hermione bumped his shoulder with hers.

"Don't worry, oh mighty Chosen One. You'll be safe with us."

He blushed a bit sheepishly, and Hermione giggled at the bashful expression. He was still the same old, insecure boy from school.

"Let me just send Draco a patronus and run it by him," she said, fishing out her wand.

She concentrated on her happiest memory as she cast the spell. It didn't take a lot of focus to make the silvery figure appear. For all those years after the war, her patronus had become so difficult to conjure. Maybe on some level she had known that her most joyful memories were locked up behind walls of magic. But now, she could cast it so brightly she had to shield her eyes a little in the darkened pub as she spoke the message.

The little otter danced around eagerly, before disappearing in a sprightly flash. The memory she had used to cast it clung to her and remained like a warm afterglow even though the creature had disappeared.

 _I love you so much, Hermione._

The feel of their bare skin wrapped around each other was such an intense sensory memory that Hermione shuddered with little pinpricks of residual happiness.

The joy that Draco brought her, the exhilaration of their life together, made the very core of her magic stronger. Her patronus was evidence of that. She could only thank Merlin that she had had the common sense to see past her own hurt feelings and seek him out to heal their wounds together. And that he had never given up on her. Hermione was prepared to bask in her good fortune for the rest of her life. The friendship and love between them grew every day. And she would _never_ forget it.

….

Draco glared down at the letter he was writing, his quill magically scratching out a couple of poorly chosen words as he figured out the best way to express himself. Hermione was always the better wordsmith than him. No doubt due to her extensive reading. Looking around the cosy little rumpus room he was in, he smiled fondly at the floor to ceiling shelves swimming in books. When they had combined their personal libraries into the one house, it had been an astronomical task to fit everything in. Several charms had been needed to extend all the nooks and crannies of the room.

This wasn't their largest living space, of course. There was another room on the ground floor of their townhouse where they housed guests, with pretty furniture and bright, cheerful wallpaper and canvases lining the room. But _this_ room was their private sanctuary. The friendly fireplace and veritable hoard of books gave it a merry atmosphere.

Draco groaned in frustration and scrunched up the entire page into a little ball. He hated all this business correspondence. He was growing more and more jealous of Hermione's flat electronic device that she used. She had tried explaining it to him once or twice, but it had all sounded like gibberish to him. Something about "E" mail and being on line. But she managed to hammer out messages to people so quickly. And there was no need to wait for owls. She would often get letters from friends and correspondents instantly.

Not for the first time, Hermione had suggested to him the other night that he try to learn it and incorporate it into his business. And he had to admit he was sorely tempted. It could certainly increase efficiency. Draco pursed his lips to stop from grinning as he considered how quickly his life had gone from one long nightmare to how it was today. With Hermione's encouragement he had even managed to add a research wing to the Malfoy business that examined dragon curses in the mines of Ireland. It had started as a philanthropic venture, but had turned into quite a lucrative offshoot of the company. It had been wonderful to blend business and pleasure in such a way. She had remembered his interest in the topic from their conversations at school, and had presented the idea casually to him one evening, as if she were merely suggesting he wear a jumper in cold weather. But her nonchalant tone had belied the excitement he felt at the possibilities that raced through his mind at her words.

At that moment, Draco's reflections were interrupted by the appearance of Hermione's silvery otter, which skipped around the room spiritedly. He beamed when he saw it. It was such a beautiful, light little creature. A true embodiment of Hermione.

 _Hi! I hope your work is going well! I want to AVADA myself here; all this excitement over dresses is so nauseating…_

Draco smirked and leaned back in his chair. The otter had an adorably aggravated frown on its face, whiskers twitching in displeasure. He had known Hermione would tire easily on her dress outing with the youngest Weasley. If there was one thing she hated, it was people fussing about over trivial details.

 _…eurgh anyway, Harry was just suggesting that the four of us have some Chinese takeaway together for dinner. Let me know what you think; I didn't want to just book us in without checking with you first. Your patience for Gryffindors might have already reached its quota for today. Okay, love you byeee!_

The otter spoke very quickly, in Hermione's excited, breathless voice. Before it left it dove through the air and flipped its body to playfully twist itself around his body, like it was frolicking. Then it gave a cheeky wink and vanished. The room was much darker after it left, and Draco wished that it could come back to keep him company a little while longer. He sighed and considered the question before him. He was perfectly happy to have Harry and Ginny come over that evening. He didn't like to readily admit it, and certainly not to his friends from Slytherin house who he saw occasionally, but he rather enjoyed spending time with the other couple. They were always so merry together. He had never had such easy camaraderie with his schoolmates growing up. There were no politics with Hermione and her friends, they just loved each other and were eager to spend time together. It was all so natural. And he would be lying if he said he hadn't actually gotten quite close to Harry in the past year. The two had a surprising amount in common, and it hadn't taken him long to realise that the infamous Chosen One was not as stuck up and selfish as he had previously thought. Harry was unexpectedly humble and generous. He was uncomfortable with the attention he received, and as Hermione had explained to him once, the boy wanted nothing more than to just be normal. But most of all, he was a kind and caring friend to the woman Draco loved. The bond between Harry and Hermione was unbreakable. He would have typically been jealous of their connection, if he hadn't seen for himself the almost sisterly way that Hermione adored her friend.

Draco shook his head as his thoughts had distracted him long enough. Hermione would probably be waiting for a reply. He raised his wand carefully to cast his patronus. Even today, Draco still sometimes got nervous casting it. His eyes flickered down to the hideous Dark Mark scorched so deeply into his arm that no wizard or muggle doctor had been able to even make it fade. He remembered an evening a couple of months ago when he and Hermione had been curled up in front of the fire together, quietly reading in each other's arms. She had noticed that his book was about curse scars, and that he kept shifting to scowl down at his forearm. In a display of true Hermione compassion, she had closed her book softly and twisted her body to cuddle into him. Then she had gently pushed his sleeve out of the way had stroked the mark tenderly with her fingers. Draco could vividly remember the visceral feel of her caress shuddering through his entire body. It had been like a balm to his tortured soul, a trickle of light seeping through him and cleansing just a tiny bit of his tainted magic. He could picture her clearly even today, as she leaned down closer to his arm. His heart had pounded with nervous anticipation as she bent down and placed a gentle, forgiving kiss right on the ugly skull burned deep into his skin.

Draco smirked to himself suddenly, his wand poised to cast his patronus. He could also remember in rather graphic detail what had happened next. He had been so overcome by her beautiful, touching gesture, that he had gone a bit wild. He could still recall the slight gasp and moan that she released when he pushed her back frantically into the rug right there in front of the fireplace. He had been so unbridled that night. Hermione had held on tightly in shocked, indulgent desire as he had taken her swiftly, barely pausing to remove their clothes at all. And the whole time his arm had been tingling with pleasure where she had stroked it and kissed it.

 _Bloody hell_ , he thought with a shiver of awe. Hermione was the best thing that had ever happened to him. He couldn't get enough of her, even after a year together she still drove him crazy and set his blood on fire. Draco shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He realised with a pleased smile that he didn't need to worry at all about casting his patronus today. With his memories and feelings about Hermione swirling through his head like a festival of fireworks, Draco cast the spell.

The completely snow white, rakish looking wolf stood with regal posture, his tail whipping from side to side as he waited to dart off eagerly to his mate to deliver his message. He was a stunning creature with sleek fur and a wily gaze. Hermione adored him. Sometimes when they were in bed late at night, and she had woken from bad dreams, she asked him to cast it for her. He always obliged her. She would sigh happily when she saw him. And often she would summon her own otter to play. The usually straight-backed, elegant wolf would transform into a goofy little pup every time that otter was around. He would bounce up and down happily as the otter swam around him, and the two humans would watch in delight at the stirring display of pure, light magic coming together.

 _"Tell Harry if he wants to go through my broomstick collection again, he need only ask. He doesn't have to invite himself over so transparently under the guise of wanting dinner!"_

Draco smiled wryly, picture Harry scoffing at that. But it was partly true; the boy did love playing with Draco's rather impressive collection of vintage Quidditch brooms.

 _"As for you, darling one, I will agree to this excessively Gryffindor dinner on one condition. You get home first so I have some…_ **quality** _time with you before the Potters descend on us. Looking forward to it."_

He knew that Hermione would blush at his implication, and she would no doubt try to brush it off in front of her friends. But after reflecting on his memories of her, Draco now wanted her badly. He sincerely hoped she understood the urgency in his tone, and that she hurried home to him. They had a couple of hours until dinner and he would be more than happy to make the most of that time wrapped around her. He wondered briefly if he could coax her into the shower so he could strip her down to nothing and wash her all over. He loved doing that. She would make the sexiest little whimpers.

Draco tapped his fingers contemplatively on the desk. He opened his top draw and peered down at the little box inside. It was masked in hundreds of concealing spells so that Hermione wouldn't see it. If she went near his desk, she would suddenly feel the need to be somewhere else. He looked down at the little black box with a pounding heart. Maybe tonight he would get the chance to show Harry and see what the Boy-Who-Lived thought about it. He had already spoken to Hermione's dad – it appeared to be a muggle custom that was more an informal conversation that actually requesting permission like in pureblood circles – and now he just had to pick the perfect moment. He chuckled as he thought that after despising trying on bridesmaids dresses all day it probably wasn't the best timing yet. But he would be patient. He had all the time in the world with Hermione.

Draco's ears perked up when he heard the whooshing of the floo in the downstairs foyer.

"Draco? You scoundrel, you made me go all sappy and red faced right in front of Harry. I completely melted just thinking about it, so you'd better make it worth my while!"

Draco chuckled. He quickly shut and locked the desk drawer, resetting his wards. He eagerly jumped to his feet and strode from the room, planning to grab Hermione and drag her up to the shower. He didn't know how his life had turned out so perfectly, but he was going to cling to it and never let her go again. As he raced down the staircase, already unbuttoning his shirt, he smiled brightly, his cheeks sore from being stretched. Who would have thought that the grumpy, prejudiced young boy in sixth year could have had his life transformed so profoundly by this sometimes irritating, bossy little know-it-all Gryffindor. He would have laughed at himself if he'd known back then. But now, he couldn't imagine his life any other way.

….

 **Fin! Thanks for reading this story guys, you have been such wonderful and thrilling reviewers and followers of this little tale. I appreciate all your kind words, and I would love to hear what you thought of this story as a whole! Thank you again and happy reading always!**


	26. Author's Note

Hello again.

Sorry no new chapter. This is indeed complete. But I have just posted the first chapter of my NEW story called _**Walking Shadow.**_ Check it out if you're interested.

It is set during Deathly Hallows and goes just slightly off canon (obviously) during their hunt for horcruxes. Looking forward to starting fresh!


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